


All We Do For Love

by theeternalblue



Series: About Gallant and Brute Men [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeternalblue/pseuds/theeternalblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he doesn't think about it, about her, things are better. Aramis has found a new rhythm which, according to his friends, is the old one. The romantic womanizer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This part of the series comes with a heartbreak, but rest assured, I have many plans.

It's certainly not a moment of greatness. She is n ot supposed to be there at that time, much less in the state she is — state of undress she means. But there are things she doesn't regret, like watching Aramis fast asleep with the bedsheets crumpled around his waist or waking up curled up against him, feeling warm and happy — calm thanks to his scent and soft snores.

Her hair is a mess, and her blouse is not nicely tucked in like usual. Anne feels like a joke when she makes her way out barefoot and combing her locks with her fingers — attempting to look presentable. Porthos is sat in front of the TV, eating something like chips from a bag. He's taking some to his mouth when their gazes meet and she blushes from head to toe — it's not hard to figure out why she looks less than like the innocent and proper girl she is and more like a hungover party girl carrying her shoes on her hand.

"Is he awake?" Porthos mumbles, and she only shakes her head. "A message for him?"

She smiles. "I'll call."

"Okay. Be careful on the way home," he mutters and that's it. With Porthos it's always like that — they have some kind of secret agreement in which he knows absolutely everything going on in her relationship with Aramis, but refrains himself to judge them. Porthos just cares for them both — and Anne is certain he only cares about her because of Aramis.

It's so early, she easily avoids people, but she cannot escape Constance. That's mainly because Constance is not in their room when she arrives, and only shows up an hour later with a bright smile on her face. Obviously she had a date with d'Artagnan. Those two have been the perfect couple ever since Constance finally ditched her ex.

Anne is sat cross-legged on her bed, her wet hair falling over her shoulders and ready to hear Constance gush about her boyfriend. A shower did wonders on her body and mind, and now there's no problem for Anne to ignore the guilt, though she's quite certain it'll find its way back soon.

o~o~o

"You said you'd call." It is the first thing Aramis tells her when he finds her in a corner of the library, with her laptop open and her hands threaded through her hair. She has a paper due in just three days and it seems like her thoughts are mixing in some sort of fog around her head. Her tired eyes look up, and he seems to take pity on her appearance because he shifts his eyes away and in a gentler tone he adds, "At least Porthos told me that."

"I'm sorry." She is, but the guilt has increased over the last few days and her conscience grows heavy. Anne has been avoiding him. But it's not as if she forgot him — she misses him and would give anything to lie in bed with him, carding her fingers through his messy curls and watching his lazy and sweet smile whenever his pampered. But she cannot. It's time she admits that, and better now than later. 

"Well." Aramis looks uncomfortable, like he rarely does. "It's not like I haven't had things to do. What've you been up to?"

"Louis. He wanted me to accompany him shopping. I was busy." She winces. Is it selfish of her to want him to break up with her? There's no label for what they have, but it'd be easier that way. Anne knows she'd have a hard time telling him with a straight face that they should end what they have. She wouldn't hold it against him, and at least that way she could fool herself into believing Aramis doesn't want her.

"You couldn't even text?" He sits across from her and his brown eyes shine with something she had never seen before. Is it hurt?

"Aramis, please." She shakes her head and shuts her computer close.

This is not him. He's not like that. He's one of those men who never begs for anything and yet, here she has him. One more thing to add up to the growing pile of things to feel guilty about. Anne never meant to do this, much less to him. She feels sick to her stomach for playing with two men — two people she adores for completely different reasons.

She stands up and gathers her things in a hurry. It's not the time to fight, and she doesn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the library or anywhere. Gossip is the main issue — it could destroy everything.

Aramis' hand reaches for hers, and his thumb softly caresses her knuckles.

"I called my mother." He smiles, snorting a soft laugh while looking down, away from her. "She wants to meet my friends, so I promised to take them home next holiday, which happens to be soon."

Anne's cheeks blush. "Christmas." How awful of her! She had completely forgotten.

Of course, it's not as if Philip will be home for the holidays. He'll probably be in New York for business, or someplace else. Her sisters have surely found solace in their friends' families, and she'll be all alone. Unless...

"D'Artagnan and Constance are coming. Porthos for the day, at least. Would you like to come with?"

"Aramis, I — I don't believe it's proper. What would your mother say? What would people think? I do not wish to impose or be the subject of gossip. I—"

He stands and approaches in a smooth step, taking her other hand and holding them both near his lips to kiss them. "Come with me, please?"

And how is she supposed to say no to that?

o~o~o

"Isn't it lovely?" Constance asks from her spot in the passenger seat of d'Artagnan's old Volkswagen Golf — a relique Anne learned he had inherited from his father as some sort of graduation gift. No one was sure if it was a good or bad gift, since the car was trouble, but at least he has one.

Aramis smiles softly as he pushes his hair back with one hand. It is amusing how much Constance loves the country side, but she grew up in the city, and as a little girl she didn't travel much — she longs to visit d'Artagnan's parents' farm, but they couldn't exactly splurge on a couple of tickets to fly there.

"Quite lovely," Anne agrees, shifting away from Aramis' legs. The space in the back seat is small and there was just no way she would've asked Constance to be far from d'Artagnan.

"I didn't know you lived in the country," d'Artagnan asks Aramis.

"I don't. We live — well, my parents live in a small town near Exeter. It shouldn't be long, really."

Anne hears that and soon checks out of the little banter between the two boys. She's just nervous, and quite frankly a little wary of her decision. She shouldn't have come. Yes, Louis was going to France to spend the holidays with his mother, and Anne can't stand the woman, so she was glad she wasn't invited. Philip would be on a business trip, as usual, but she would've been okay on her own. She's not really someone who cannot be alone — in fact, most of her life has been spent that way, since her mother passed away.

The country is beautiful, she thinks while looking through the window. She can feel Aramis' eyes on her, and that is what makes her regret her decision. It's about time she starts distancing from him, before they can fall deeper in the abysm. Perhaps it's too late for her, but she knows she can spare him the pain if they end things soon. That won't happen during Christmas, or the holidays, but after. Anne is just taking some time to find the right moment and the right words.

"Next year we could all travel to d'Artagnan's home," Constance provides with an easy smile.

Anne forces herself to mimic her, but reality is she's not thinking far ahead. It's uncertain if she and Aramis will be together next month or next week, so how can she envision next year?

"My parents would like that," d'Artagnan says. "We don't have much, but they'll be more than happy to meet you all."

That's the main difference between them and what Anne and Aramis have. Constance and d'Artagnan are happy because they've overcome the issues that kept them apart in the beginning, while Anne has only ignored them. It's not about being rich or poor, because that should never pose a problem when there's love. It's about different worlds, and responsibilities. Anne would never be allowed to be with someone like Aramis — and she dreads the moment he'll tell her he's bored of her, of them, and their little tryst. He  will get bored, because his life is filled with adventure and he craves the excitement. She's boring and predictable, and will be left heartbroken.

"Are you okay?"

She looks up at his eyes — warm brown like a comforting cup of English breakfast in the morning.

A smile is painted on her lips for his sake. "Just slightly nervous, but fine."

Aramis' hand searches for hers and threads their fingers together.

Soon, Anne thinks. Soon they will be left heartbroken. There's nothing they can do to stop it.

o~o~o

The house is small but has three bedrooms — one belongs to Aramis and the other one was his sisters' back in the day. Aramis' mother explains quickly that the boys will stay in one room and the girls in the other, and no one protests.

Anne smiles at the woman with dark curly hair. She's not very tall, but has wide hips and a narrow waist. It looks like she put a lot of thought in her outfit and the house — everything has its rightful place. She tells them Aramis' father is still at the bar but should be back home soon.

"Please call me Sofia," she says while fidgeting with a silver cross falling on her chest. She speaks to everyone, but her eyes are trained on her son, and Anne can't help but to think that the guests have prevented the woman from coddling her boy.

They all laugh when Aramis finally hugs the woman as tightly as he can and peppers her face with kisses. Sofia doesn't complain and instead she hugs him back just as tightly. Anne is not eavesdropping, but she understands when they say they missed each other, and share  I love you 's in Spanish. It's extremely beautiful and emotional — it makes her regret to never be home, but she's never had that either.

And then, when the greeting is over, Sofia turns to her and smiles brightly. "Are you my boy's girlfriend?"

Anne's eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink. Her mouth opens, but words don't come out, because what can she tell? They haven't said anything and she's technically still with Louis, even if each day she's closer to end things. Embarrassment is a horrible feeling. Her stomach drops.

"Mom," Aramis interrupts with a gentle smile on his lips. "We're friends. Good friends and very close."

Her hearts cracks at those words, even if his gaze is warm and lovely. It's just that she knows they'll never move past that. His words are just a confirmation he doesn't want more from her.

"Ana is from Spain and Catholic, just like you," Aramis adds as information, but Anne is too preoccupied while trying to school her features to look calm.

"Oh! Then we should go to mass on Christmas day." And it's settled. No one can say no to a woman with that bright smile and good spirit.

"I'll be honoured to join you."

It's not much later when a tough, tall man arrives. He has dark hair, greying on the sides, and a neatly trimmed moustache that's less stylish than Aramis' and more like from the eighties. Aramis' father looks like a strong man no one would dare to mess with. Unlike his wife, he's less demonstrative of his affection, but still embraces his son given him two heavy pats on the back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Anne greets while d'Artagnan tries his best to look like his long hair never leaves its place. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say we are thankful for your hospitality."

He looks at her intently for a second before nodding. "It's good to meet you." It's awkward, but Anne remembers what Aramis said about the man, and she doesn't take offence.

o~o~o

Anne soon learns that Constance loves to cook, almost as much as Sofia. This is the main reason why she feels lonely when the men are in front of the TV sharing a beer at talking about football. True, none of the men are incapable of helping, but Sofia loves her kitchen too much to have those clumsy fellows messing with it — and Constance could be talking about football with the boys, being such a big fan of Crystal Palace.

"May I help?" Anne asks, poking her head in the kitchen and watching as her best friend and Aramis' mom busy themselves.

Sofia grins. "Of course." She reaches for an apron and soon ties it around Anne's waist. "I'll teach you how to make  polvorones.  They are Aramis' favourites during Christmas." And then she flicks Anne's nose and winks, as if she knows they were lying before, telling her they are just friends.

Constance only chuckles.

The grin on Aramis face when he wolves down a couple of  polvorones is too big just because his mother told him Anne had made them. Anne blushes and tries to make it look like nothing, because really, half the job was made by Sofia. But then Aramis' dad eats one and nods.

"This is good," and apparently that's big praise coming from him.

It's hard not to wish to have been blessed with this kind of family and not the obscene amounts of money, Anne thinks while jotting down the recipe for the treat, and also a couple more Sofia shares with her. The woman has her so entertained, Anne fails to notice Aramis looking at her from the kitchen door.

o~o~o

"Having fun?"

Anne turns before she enters the bedroom she's sharing with Constance and faces Aramis. It's difficult to hide her smile. "I am. Your parents are lovely."

He snorts derisively. "My father certainly is."

That's quite awful of him to say. Yes, perhaps the man isn't welcoming or warm, but he hasn't complained about the noise or the three guests that will certainly eat his food, use his water and plug all their tech devices that'll surely add up to his electric bill. And to her, he's been nice.

"Aramis, I don't know if you see it, but he's proud of you."

"No," he replies firmly, avoiding her gaze. "He's surprised I haven't dropped out yet. That he hasn't had to welcome me back, after failing."

"You're wrong. He cares for you. He  knows what it means to you. My brother only agreed to pay for my studies so I could find a rich husband. He doesn't even call anymore. I'm lucky if one of his assistants sends an email — a stupid email! — to tell me merry Christmas." Anne checked — it's the same generic greeting Philip sends to his business partners. It would've made her cry, if it wasn't because she had been surrounded by Sofia and Constance at the time her mobile beeped.

"Ana," he mumbles before pressing a gentle hand to her cheek. His lips are soft and pliant against hers in a comforting kiss.

She pulls away too quickly. "We shouldn't. It's not my wish to disrespect your parents' home."

His mouth curves up at one side. "C'mon! They are busy. They won't even realize." Aramis dives again for another kiss, and this time she feels like she cannot escape.

Maybe when they are back in campus she can put distance between them. Now it's just impossible. And even more so when Aramis manages to convey all sorts of emotions.

Anne might be soft-spoken, and even shy, but she's not a damsel in distress. When Aramis is near though, it feels comforting — like she belongs there. Feeling it and knowing it are different things. For example, she knows they were not supposed to take things this far.

Placing a hand on his chest, she pushes him back. "We told your parents we were friends." He smiles. It's charming and gorgeous like all he does, and she cannot help but to smile back. Her hand reaches for a lock of his hair, wrapping a curl around her finger. "I don't want to lie."

"Never." He turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand. "Aren't we friends?" She has to chuckle when he side-glances at her, with coy eyes.

"We are." She cannot be angry at him, but she wonders if they'll still be friends once they are back and she tells him their relationship as lovers can't continue.

For now, Anne will just enjoy her short-term freedom to love him in secret.


	2. What Hurts the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just don't know what this all means, because it's turning serious and we refuse to address it. And I haven't figured things out yet, because there's a lot on the line for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about to be filled with angst. Forgive me.

Picking a dress for mass proved to be quite difficult. Anne carefully picked her outfit and made sure her coat was pristine so she wouldn't stand out — and yet when she stands by the door with the rest of the guys, she feels out of place for looking so utterly perfect. Still, Sofia grins and it's all it counts — they just want to please their hostess.

Like Aramis told her, his father stands far from them, while his mother forces her to sit at her side. Anne can barely contain her laughter when d'Artagnan doesn't know when to stand or sit down, ending up being the only person standing at certain point. The priest feels sorry for him and motions for him to sit down.

After mass, Aramis' father waits at the car for them while Sofia greets some people and gushes about her son coming home from college. It's obvious to everyone that Aramis was quite popular with the church-going ladies, since they all smile and greet him fondly.

"Porthos says he'll be here at about five," d'Artagnan says after checking and pocketing his mobile.

"It's a shame Athos couldn't join us even for one day," Constance provides as she leans against her boyfriend in search of a little more heat.

"Family commitments," Anne repeats the excuse he gave them the time he was invited. And she believes Athos — no one knows better than her how hard it is to live your own life when your family has planned out even how many children you are having before you were born. "It's understandable. His father is a politician and, as such, he must attend with his family."

"Do you think he's meeting the Queen on Christmas?" Constance wonders with eyes widened at the mere thought of it happening.

D'Artagnan laughs, but Anne just shrugs her shoulders.

"It could be. But I doubt it. You must prepare in advance to meet royals. And last time I saw Athos he needed a haircut and to trim his beard."

They chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Aramis asks when he meets them, right after leading his mother to the car. He shakes his head when his friends dismiss the question. "Well, Porthos sent a text."

"We know. He's arriving later."

Aramis smirks. "Yes, right on time for biscuits and tea, like he likes it."

o~o~o

Anne giggles quietly when Constance chides d'Artagnan for confessing he would like to open the gifts under the tree, but they weren't able since Sofia dragged them to church early and Christmas Eve was all about eating a rich dinner. This makes her remember about Maria Anna — about sitting with her around the tree and opening gifts, laughing and spending time with her parents like they rarely could.

But when they arrive home, Sofia sets a plate with cookies and _polvorones_ and encourages them to start unwrapping their presents. It's nice of Aramis' mother to have gotten her a beautiful journal, after Anne had commented she liked to write down her thoughts. Constance is happy with the lovely blouse Anne got her, and she's pleased to see Anne is quite content with the earrings she picked for her — since she's quite aware of her fondness for accessories of all types.

With all her might, Anne tries not to look disappointed when she opens the gift from Aramis — a pair of gloves. It's not as if they are ugly or unwelcome, but they seem impersonal, something you got to someone you don't quite know.

"Thank you. These are lovely," Anne says politely, but notices the mischief in his eyes as if Aramis knows she's not lying, but not telling the absolute truth.

She feels her cheeks burning when Aramis opens her present to find a new cardigan — soft and expensive, with all the buttons in perfect condition and cuddly. Anne bought it half-hoping she could enjoy it on him, feeling the soft texture, his warmth and cologne — just hug him. His eyes search for hers and her heart is squeezed with a strange feeling.

Constance, d'Artagnan and Anne all chipped in and splurged on gifts for Aramis' parents, and they seem to like them.

After a while of talking and sharing baked goods, they all leave to put their gifts away. As Anne climbs up the stairs, Aramis follows.

"Wait." He smiles at her and chuckles. "You didn't like the gloves."

"It was a good gift. My hands are always cold, so I appreciate the thought-"

He interrupts her taking a step closer to her. "True, but you don't like them and it's fine, because they weren't meant to be your gift." Anne's quizzical gaze makes his smile turn into a grin when he pulls another gift from behind his back. "I just didn't know how to explain this in front of everyone."

She takes the neatly wrapped gift and Aramis takes the rest of things from her hands. As with all the other presents, she carefully unwraps it instead of tearing of the paper. Soon a colourful cover greets her — a copy of an illustrated version of _The Nightingale and The Rose_ by Oscar Wilde, her favourite story, the one her mother used to read her. Anne still remembers when her mother explained to her that the cost of things didn't reflect their true value.

Her eyes turn a little glassy and she smiles. "Thank you."

"See, I know this one you like."

It would be silly not to kiss him, so she does because she cannot tell him she loves him. She can't, because if she does everything will crumble down. If she does, she will not have the will to end things later.

o~o~o

Unsurprisingly, when Porthos arrives he makes himself feel at home right away. Aramis is a little shocked when he notices how well his best friend gets along with his father, who is always away from the chatter. Sofia adores him too, and is pleased to see how the boy enjoys the food. And Anne feels at ease as well, because with Porthos there's no holding back, he never hides anything except to protect his friends.

"Everything fine?" Porthos asks as they drink peppermint hot chocolate, and Anne just stares at her drink, sips from it and nods softly. "Truly?"

She sighs and looks at him. Porthos dark eyes look worried and sad, and she feels awful for it. "Aramis got me a book."

He grins. "I know. He was looking for it for a whole week. I almost snapped at him a few times."

"It's my favourite." She bites her lip. "I just don't know what this all means, because it's turning serious and we refuse to address it. And I haven't figured things out yet, because there's a lot on the line for me." She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "I'm sorry. It's not fair to get you involved in this. He's your best friend and I do not want to get between that."

Porthos takes a gulp from his drink and nods, growling a little like he does whenever things get too emotional and he feels the discomfort of the situation creeping in. "I don't wish to see any of you hurt."

She hugs him, because he might be distant and a tough guy, but she has gotten to know him. Porthos is a caring man, one who would do anything for his friends, and he's been so good to her, even when he had every right not to like her or even support whatever is going on between her and Aramis.

He laughs and thanks her once again for the scarf she got him, but when Sofia sees them laughing and hugging, she gets a sad look on her face. And later she tells Anne that for a moment she had hoped there was something more than friendship between her son and Anne.

"I'm sorry, but Porthos and I are friends only." Anne busies herself while towelling dishes. "I do not wish to complicate my life at the moment. This year has brought too many changes for me." She smiles softly when Sofia's hands cup her face like only mothers know how, giving her the look she misses from hers.

"Everything happens for a reason. You'll see. I'm sure you'll find happiness too, but it's never easy." Sofia flicks Anne's nose, making her giggle. "I'll add you to my prayers, darling."

"Thank you. You'll be in mine too."

o~o~o

Since the boys have plans for New Year's, they don't stay long after Christmas. Besides they don't want to bother their hosts and, as Constance said, it's better they leave before ruining the good impression they have made.

Sofia lets a few tears roll down her cheeks when Aramis hugs and kisses her goodbye. He even embraces his father in a stiff, but heart-felt hug. They aren't a perfect family, but it's easy to tell they care for one another — and it's because of that same reason, Aramis promises to call more frequently and visit soon. In return, his mother tells him next time she'll call his sisters in advance to have a family reunion.

"Did you have fun?" Aramis asks once they are on the road again.

Anne looks at Constance and d'Artagnan in the front of the car, holding hands as usual, and jealousy invades her.

"I did. Your parents were awfully nice to us."

"Even if d'Artagnan kept clogging the shower drain," Aramis quips.

"I did not! It was Constance's hair," and at such words, his girlfriend smacks his arm.

"You _do not_ say things like that about a lady!"

Anne chuckles with Aramis as the perfect couple bickers for a while. She likes how familiar things are, how she has gotten to know these people so well and wishes nothing more than to forget her problems, but reality forbids it. She has a boyfriend she needs to stop cheating on, and a brother who needs to stop controlling her life. Anne knows she'll figure it out, but she needs time and a clear mind and heart.

After looking at Aramis, she turns her head and pretends to sleep. Fortunately, Aramis lets her. It'd be much harder to lean into him and press her head against his chest, because she'll feel happy. Guilt forces her to choose the cold and hard window against her temple, instead of the stabbing pain against her heart.

o~o~o

New Year comes and goes faster than Anne ever thought possible. She's been avoiding Aramis since they returned from their Christmas trip and it's been difficult because d'Artagnan is always around and Athos has many classes with her. She has achieved the goal by spending endless hours at the library, and turning off her mobile. But it's been lonely, because she also decided to end things with Louis, though he took it better than expected — he agreed to remain friends and told her all about a girl his mother had introduced him. Of course, what else could anyone expect from someone like Marie de' Medici?

But university doesn't feel as great as it did in the beginning. Anne goes to class and works on her papers, she excels at everything, but she doesn't feel happy with it. And then, one morning she's alone in the room she shares with Constance, her belly disagrees with her and she finds herself hugging the toilet, throwing up the cereal bar she had just eaten. It's funny though, because since she alienated her friends, she hasn't gone to parties or drunk alcohol — she knows for certain she didn't eat something out of the ordinary the previous night.

A new wave of nausea washes over her and her knees hurt against the tiles. She hears voices coming from outside, girls talking about one thing or another, and somehow she remembers. Dread is the first thing she feels. Embarrassment. Sadness. How can something like this happen to her? She is a good girl. Isn't she anymore? She prays and tries to follow the rules. But love? Love doesn't follow rules and can't be reigned by the mind.

Two months... it was the only night she spent with him. One time.

She sits there, but she doesn't cry, even if a thousand things go through her head. One is the possibility she's wrong, and that's why she picks herself up and makes her way to the pharmacy. She's wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt — Anne knows it's stupid because it's too early to be showing but her mind didn't seem to understand that when she dressed. It's her secret to keep. Hers and hers alone. And now she doesn't look like herself. She pulls the hood of the sweatshirt over her head, because her hair is a mess and she didn't shower in her haste to know. She _needs_ to know.

She stands before the pregnancy tests and looks at them wishing she could've told Constance — but her friend spent the night with d'Artagnan and even if she has more friends, she doesn't want to discuss with them what happened. Anne's too tired for that.

Taking one in her hands, she wonders if perhaps she should take more than one — just to be sure.

She hears someone's steps behind her and takes a quick glance. Her body stiffens when she notices it's Porthos and then he's followed by Aramis. They are both laughing and talking about something — being the same boys she's known since the first day she met them.

She prays for them not to recognize her. Anne's not too close, but she's gripping the pregnancy test in her hands like it's the only thing keeping her safe. She asks herself for the first time why would they put condoms next to the tests anyway.

"I don't know," Porthos mumbles after taking a box. "Isn't it presumptuous of me to be buying them?"

"Better to be safe than sorry!" Aramis tells him in such a merry and nonchalant voice, Anne has to cover her mouth with one hand not to sob loudly. He then grabs another box and shoves it into Porthos hands.

"I can only hope, but don't you think this is too much?"

"If you want to share, fine by me. But you're paying now."

Anne can feel the tears on her hand, so she grabs another test and makes her way to pay for them and leave as fast as she can. She's glad she took cash, but she still hears them laugh and her heart breaks a little with each passing second.

The clerk is a young girl and she looks like she feels sorry for her when she hands her the change. Anne is sure that's all she's going to see from then on — people feeling sorry for her.

She turns to leave and then bumps into a hard body. She knows by the hands that prevent her from falling that it's not Aramis, and a glimpse of the scarf lets her know it's Porthos. For the first time in her life, she doesn't apologize. Anne only flees, because there's no time to feel sorry anymore. Her life is turning upside down just as she dashes through campus feeling the cold air drying her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want me to add more to this one or focus on another pairing first and then continue with these two star-crossed lovers?


	3. Believe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he doesn't think about it, about her, things are better. Aramis has found a new rhythm which, according to his friends, is the old one. The romantic womanizer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you see this isn't two chapters long anymore because I've decided to continue the story from this point on. And this is a sad chapter, but I hope you like it.

"I think this shirt is better," Porthos tells him when he shows up again, this time with a pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up carefully, so he still looks presentable, as he likes to say.

Aramis can't help but chuckling, shaking his head.

His best friend is truly one of a kind. He's street-smart and could deal with whomever tried to intimidate him, but when it comes to women, he's clueless. Aramis has always believed that's because he's upfront and doesn't know the meaning of subtlety — women are delicate in their affections and generally dislike being too obvious. There's not too obvious with Porthos. The man would be giddy with a girl who stands in front of him and tells him she likes him and would like him to invite her on a date — which is basically what happened with Mara.

"It's fine."

"Fine?" Porthos frowns and looks at himself again.

"What do you want me to say? You look ravishing?" Aramis teases and in return his friend scoffs.

"I just want this to work out." He fidgets with his watch and then grumbles under his breath. It's rare and amusing to see him nervous, but Aramis still remembers the time Porthos dated Alice and it was exactly like this — Porthos wished nothing more than to please her and pay attention to details, even if he was the worst at it. "Do you know how hard it was for me to explain what had happened?"

"You've mentioned it before. Yes."

"Well, then. She's not going to give me another chance, so I need to look better than fine."

"As long as you don't tell her you have another girlfriend, or that you think other girls are prettier than her."

Porthos narrows his eyes at him with each word, while Aramis' smile grows with satisfaction. Honestly, it's too easy to rile him up.

"I like her."

"That's good. I would expect it after the effort you've put into this," Aramis says while turning the page of his book and making little notes for his French Literature class. He's not enthused about it, but he doesn't have better plans for the evening, and he needs to get this done before it's too late. Of course, if he had wished so he could've joined Athos for a couple of drinks and a game or two of darts, but he's not in the mood — he hasn't been in while.

"What about you? No plans for tonight?"

"Nope." Aramis taps his pen against the book without looking up.

"And how about Anne? I haven't seen her since the holidays really. Just one time at lunch, and she only said hi but ran off —" Porthos gets quiet when he notices the way Aramis' back tenses. "Did you two fight?"

Aramis barely shakes his head, while pursing his lips.

The thing is Porthos is right. It's been almost a month since he last spoke to Anne, and perhaps longer since she tried to get in touch with him. He sent a couple of messages, tried calling her once or twice, but she never replied. At first he thought he had done something to upset her, but he cannot remember what it could be — and he hates to even have done that because he doesn't live in the past. It's just... he misses her. Too much. Her coy smile when he flatters her. The colour on her cheeks when he makes an inappropriate comment. The happy sigh when they cuddle in the couch, when she snuggles to his side. Her scent. Her touch. That one night he truly believed she was the only one for him.

"It's strange not to see her around," Porthos mumbles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. The truth is Anne doesn't just visit — she buys things like milk or scones to pamper them, or joins them while studying. She might not be a great cook, but she's a delight to cook for.

Aramis forces his lips to curve up in a less than sincere smile. "Perhaps you could bring Mara now. If what you miss is the feminine touch."

Porthos doesn't look amuse by the joke. "Don't you miss your girlfriend?"

Aramis shuts his book and grabs his things from the coffee table. He rarely gets angry, but this is enough to snap something in him. "She's not my girlfriend. She has a boyfriend and it's not me." He tries to go past Porthos, but he grabs him by the arm.

"Hey, now. Don't do that."

"Tell the truth?" Aramis scoffs. "She's probably with him now. We were never more than..."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter."

But Porthos looks at him and heaves a long sigh. "Never seen you this upset over a girl." Aramis shrugs his shoulders and turns around, trying to escape from the conversation. "Do you love her?"

He stops walking, but looks at the floor. "If things were different... I'd give myself time to ponder it. But they are not. She was not raised to mingle with lads like me. It was good while it lasted, but she probably realized just that."

"Aramis—"

"You're going to be late for your date. That could be the first point against you."

Porthos looks at his watch, presses his lips in a thin line and gives him a look that says the conversation isn't over. Aramis only smiles, and when he's finally alone, he thinks for a minute about calling Anne. His thumb almost tapping on her name, but he gives up and decides against it. Maybe it's better this way, before he told her how he feels — he can still make himself believe he's not missing her as badly as he knows he does.

o~o~o

The bottle of wine sits on the table with only half of its content still in it.

Aramis looks at the burgundy liquid with disinterest. He enjoys having a drink occasionally, but he isn't a snob like Athos, regarding food or wine — his friend instead has an unhealthy love for getting drunk on expensive wine instead of talking about his problems and try to solve them.

"What is it this time?" Aramis asks, taking a sip from his glass and sighing as the alcohol tickles his throat. It's pleasant and sweet, and it's tempting to take the bottle and drown his problems in it.

"My inability to say the right thing to the right woman."

Chuckling, Aramis tilts his head to the side. "Are we speaking about Ninon or Milady?"

"There's no such thing as right with Milady. She's wrong in so many levels." The tone in which Athos says it gives something away. Their relationship was torture for them, but it was filled with passion, to the point they lost their minds. Jealousy is a problem, even if Athos denies it, clenching his teeth whenever he sees her with another man — or woman, if the rumours were correct at certain point. Milady also behaves like the scorned lover whenever a woman shows interest in Athos, which makes Aramis wonder if they will ever truly end things.

"Ah, so Ninon it is."

"She's driving me mad," Athos mumbles, downing a whole glass of wine without breathing. "She questions everything — every detail and word. It infuriates me, but it's captivating at once. She pushes boundaries, and gives little thought to anyone's opinions."

"So?" Aramis pours himself some more wine and looks at his glass for a moment before bringing it to his lips."Ask her on a date."

"Ask her—" Before he can finish, Athos scoffs. He rarely smiles — laughing isn't something he has learned to do despite all the antics he's witnessed and been part of. "She would be the one to ask _me_ out."

"Then suggest it. Be subtle. Hint at it. Drive her mad and don't give your plans away. Perhaps her curious nature will be enough so she wants to unravel the mystery."

Athos' tired and permanently sad eyes peer at him. It feels heavy on him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Aramis avoids his gaze and taps his fingers without rhythm against the table.

"If I must, I admit your advice sounds reasonable. But the fact you haven't advice me to send massive bouquets or flowers, letters and poems as if I were some enamoured knight from the seventeenth century seems unlike you."

Aramis lips curve into a smile and his eyes glance at Athos, yet he doesn't keep eye contact. It's as if he's wearing his feelings for everyone to see them.

"You didn't mock me and I was here ready for it. So I ask again, what's wrong with you?"

"Absolutely nothing." And this time he haughtily leans back, schooling his features to look at his friend openly.

It's then when Athos decides to take a different approach. "Did you know Louis is now friends with Rochefort?" Aramis' back stiffens at the mention of those two names — the first because of what it means, and the latter because of who he is. "Since his breakup with Anne, he's becoming quite the ladies' man — though, he could've picked a better wing-man."

"Breakup?" Aramis' brows furrow in confusion.

"So that's it." Athos hums in understanding. "Almost two months now. She's been a little off — sickly, you could say. I assumed you'd be the first to know."

"Well, it doesn't matter."

"It doesn't? Really? Because I still remember the look on your face whenever she happened to be near. Now that she's not taken she's not challenge enough for you? Has she lost the appeal?"

Aramis' jaw clenches and he'd very much like to spit out what floats in his mind and heart, but he has pride. He never has felt so much like his father than now — stubborn, prideful, and deeply flawed. He knows of course his father loves his mother very much — enough so he feels inadequate for her but also prone to give everything if she asks for it. He's seen it, and never once before understood it.

"She chose not to tell me. As well as not to see me."

"And if she chooses you, would you reject her out of pride? Or only because she's not someone else's?"

He doesn't think. Instinct takes over when Aramis launches over the table and grabs Athos by the shirt, angry and hurt. His jaw trembles out of pure tension and rage, but he doesn't know what to do. He lets him go and sits back down.

"You need a fight to let that out."

Aramis smirks, but nods. He does need a fight. And a girl. He needs to vent and the thrill is what keeps him sane.

o~o~o

When he doesn't think about it, about her, things are better. Aramis has found a new rhythm — which, according to his friends, is the old one. The romantic womanizer. But still d'Artagnan looks at him as if he knows something — a secret he refuses to tell out of respect to his relationship with Constance. At first it bothered him, now he just tries to forget it.

Things are looking up. That's until he hears a knock on the door that Tuesday at midday.

Porthos is out in class or something Aramis doesn't remember, and he's home in underwear and not much else — after a late night, he thought about sleeping in. Needless to say, he's in a bad mood after being woken up, and he's in no hurry to meet whomever is behind the door.

"What?" he barks just as he gets the door open, even before looking at the scared girl standing in front of him with cheeks flaming at the sight of his bare chest. Aramis feels a lump in his throat when he notices the light brown hair and those big eyes looking at him startled.

"Hi," she mutters in a soft voice, trying but failing to smile. "May I come in?"

He says nothing and only makes room so she can walk in. Anne takes that as an invitation, but she doesn't sit on the couch like she used to — nothing like when they arrived together after class and she took off her coat while talking with him and making plans about food or cuddled while reading. She just stands there.

"What are you doing here?" he's gentle, but the words are what they mean. He needs to know.

She doesn't answer and instead looks at him, his chest, and sighs. "You're still wearing it."

It's as if the crucifix around his neck burns the skin, but there's a meaning behind it — she's in it. There's no way to pinpoint the one reason why he kept it on him, but it's there and he's not planning on taking it off.

"We haven't spoken in almost two months, but fine. Your sweater looks comfy," he remarks with enough sarcasm to make her flinch.

"It's one of the main reasons why I'm here." Any other time he thinks her solemnity is endearing — now it's becoming increasingly infuriating. "I shouldn't have kept you in the shadows, but you must understand the situation was overwhelming for me. I was consciously cheating on someone. Betraying a person who is my friend, even if I never held romantic feelings for him." She takes a step close to him but when he turns his head away, grinding his teeth she decides to stay put. "And I wasn't being fair to you. Or me. The guilt was eating me up and I didn't know how to deal with it."

"I was right here. All this time."

"And I didn't believe it right to talk about how I felt and hurt you!" Anne takes a deep breath and twines her fingers together. "I'm here to apologize."

"For what exactly?" This time Aramis does look at her, but she wishes he hadn't. She feels awful. "You broke up with him and didn't tell me. I waited. I called. I—"

"I felt dirty," she whispers in a thick voice, laced with emotion. "I wanted to come running to you, but I was raised to feel guilty for pursuing what I wanted instead of what I was told. So I forced myself to wait. Time would make things better, but it didn't."

"You shouldn't have come. We weren't anything, and I understood the message, Anne. You can go on with your life."

"You don't understand." This time she walks closer without giving herself time to ponder his reaction. "I know you're... seeing other girls." She swallows an imaginary lump in her throat and licks her lips. "I have nothing to demand from you. Never did. What we had was beautiful, but I always knew it would be a flitting relationship. That's why I'm here." Her eyes wander around the room before falling on him again. "I know you're not looking for commitment, but it's your right to know. Please bear in mind that I'm not asking anything from you, and I'll respect your decision whatever it might be as I hope you respect mine." Her breath shakes, as if she were trembling, scared. "I'm pregnant," she mutters in a soft voice and it's as if no other sound in the world exists in that moment.

It's not necessary of him to ask. That baby is his. He might've not been her first, but he knows she wasn't sleeping with Louis at the time, and she broke up with him two months ago according to Athos. She's not one to be sleeping around — he was an exception to all her rules.

"You can go on with your life, as you wish to do so, but I'll keep it." She smiles wistfully while looking at her feet.

"How long?" Aramis babbles while he tries to wrap his head around the idea. It's so different from that time years ago. Back then he was dating the girl. Properly. It was a possibility. Small, but still. Now it seems out of nowhere.

"Soon to be twelve weeks. I had come sooner, but I haven't felt well and I've been too emotional to get the words right."

"It's a lot to take in."

"I'm aware you weren't expecting this kind of news and as I said, I'm not asking anything from you." But then a tear rolls down her cheek, and he knows she's alone. Her brother will never support her being a single mother who doesn't have a degree. Much less when his plans were to marry her to a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a career in politics preferably.

And he can't look at her. _He can't!_ And for the love of God, he wants to, but he's lost at the moment. He was so angry at her. So hurt. Right until two seconds ago. Now he feels sorry and ashamed, because he can't even imagine what she went through and what she's about to go through, but he can't say a word to comfort her.

"Aramis?"

He looks at her, but he doesn't know what she sees in him, because next thing she does is leave.

"I should go. But if you need to ask or say anything, you can call. Or not." That last syllable comes out strangled as she chokes on a sob.

When she dashes to the door, Anne almost collides with Porthos. The man grins at her before seeing her face. She mumbles apologies but leaves as fast as she can and Aramis only flops down on the couch, elbows on his knees and head on his hands. His fingers comb through his hair and he scratches his scalp, begging it's enough to get his brain to function again.

"What happened?"

Aramis is quiet for a while. Too long for anyone who knows him. Then he looks up.

"She's pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want me to include or consider something? Let me know!


	4. Wash Away The Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis cannot sweeten the bitter taste of unplanned parenthood with his usual skill with words and poetry because he is terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to continue after the bitter aftertaste left by the previous chapter.

"What do you mean?" Porthos babbles, looking at Aramis with his eyebrows knitted together before his gaze scans the way in which Anne just went. "Pregnant." The word is said softly, as if he were trying to convince himself and process this tiny piece of information that's about to explode — at least that's what Aramis is doing.

"Yes," Aramis sighs. "Pregnant," he repeats with certain exasperation. He's not really keen of saying it again and again, mostly because he's still pondering his decision — the one he apparently just made when he let her go.

"Is it yours?" Porthos asks in a murmur and almost cowers when Aramis' glare falls upon him. "I know. Fine. It's just — why didn't you follow her?"

It's the same question Aramis was making himself. He's sure of many things, first of which is that he still has feelings for Anne. But he's also questioning many others. Yes, she seemed determined to keep the child, but it's easy to realize life won't be easy on her from the moment she took that decision. Inevitably, that forces him to wonder if he's to blame for putting her in such position.

In life there's only uncertainty — it's part of the miracle of every day. Up until this moment, he's always believed there's a reason for every little thing. He doesn't know why he's doubting it now.

"I'm not sure," he confesses in a strangled voice.

Deep down he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and make promises he's not sure he could keep, but would try his hardest. They will be fine. They'll figure it out. But he doesn't know how if he can get a job and he knows he can't see the future. Aramis cannot sweeten the bitter taste of unplanned parenthood with his usual skill with words and poetry because he is terrified. And the only thing he can promise and fully commit to it is that he'll be by his child's side and do his best, even if that's not enough. He'd give anything to see his child happy and loved, but he doesn't know how to say this when in this moment he has let Anne down by ignoring her need of support.

He stands up and goes into his bedroom, all while Porthos looks at him, waiting for a clue that tells him what to do. Aramis returns as he slips on a shirt and a sweater, he grabs his keys and walks towards the door.

"Are you going to find her?"

Aramis shakes his head and swallows thickly. "I need to clear my head. I need... I have to be away for a little while." He doesn't wait for a reply, and instead he just leaves. What he said is true. He does need to clear up his head and to do that he only knows one way — at least one that works for him.

He steps into church and makes the sign of the holy cross before approaching a pew close to front. He kneels and pries out his crucifix, tangling it in his hands as he prays.

Since young, the atmosphere he found inside a church soothed his troubled mind, quenched his thirst for adventure and healed his emotional wounds. The silence, the smell of incense and the warm light cast on him allowed him to think and slow down.

_You know I haven't led an exemplary life. I'm a sinner. I've stumbled too many times with worldly temptations. But Father, just let me do right. Show me the way to better myself for my child. For Anne. My goal is not redemption — I can't ask for myself anymore. Use me as your tool to keep them safe, happy and loved, for that is my greatest wish. Forgive me for this offence, but my love for them, for my family and friends knows no boundaries. It's through them I worship you. I vow to do my best for them, if you only allow me to._

He listens to the sounds of someone walking into the church, and when he turns he recognizes Constance before she sets her eyes on him. Just by the expression on her face, Aramis knows she is aware of what transpire between him and Anne. She's angry at him, and he cannot blame her — at least he knows Constance's loyalty will always be with Anne, and for that he's grateful. She stops and turns around, this time making her exit quicker than her entrance.

Before he follows her, he crosses himself and thanks God in a whisper.

"Constance!" Aramis shouts as he shortens the distance between them. "Please, just hear me out—"

When he's finally close enough, she turns around sharply and slaps him forcefully across the face. He's not going to lie, but his face feels on fire and his jaw gets a bit sore.

"I deserve that."

"How could you!" Constance hisses, absolutely ignoring the way he tries to assess his condition. "She is so scared, so lonely, and you let her go. I vouched for you! I convinced her to tell you as soon as she could because I believed you loved her."

"I do!" He snaps. "I do, but I was afraid too." He looks down at his hands, and feels the same shame from before. "Afraid of how strong my feelings for her are." He shakes his head. "When she kept herself away from me... I was drowning. I need her, if only to see her and know she is well. If only from afar."

"She's hurt," Constance says with worry. "She's been crying and that much stress can't be good for the baby."

"Let me see her. I beg you. Let me fix this."

"Promise not to cause her any more pain, and to respect her wishes." It's a warning, but it could also be a threat. Aramis knows better than to fail a promise. Constance only knows how to enforce her principles.

"It's all I ever want to do."

Constance nods, and motions for him to go. "But you should try to make her eat something. She's not been feeding herself right these last couple of weeks out of nervousness."

o~o~o

It's already getting dark when he finally makes his way to Anne and Constance's place. He picked some food on the way there— Spanish omelette, chicken croquettes and Arabic rice, and _arroz con leche_. Aramis hopes they will work things out and share a meal if Anne allows him to care for her and make up for his mistake earlier that day.

Taking a deep breath before knocking on the door, Aramis braces himself to probably get a door slammed on his face. He knows he's about to face a long night. What he doesn't expect is too see Porthos opening the door, looking sad and tired.

"What are you doing here?"

Porthos is careful to step out but leave the door ajar behind him. "You said you weren't coming, but I had to make sure she was okay." He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and sighs. "I know you. I was sure you'd come to make right. I was just covering for you for a little while."

Aramis's mouth curves into a slanted smile. His friends are amazing. He's lucky to have people like Porthos around him — and he would do the same for him.

"How is she?"

"Hiccuping, but she's a little calmer now."

"Has she eaten anything?" At this, Porthos shakes his head. "I brought food. And apologies. Do you think it's the right time?"

"When if not?" Porthos places one hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it in support. "Call me if you need anything."

After his friend walks away, Aramis breathes out and gently pushes the door open. Anne is sat on the bed, looking down at her lap as she pushes her hair behind her ears. Her face looks congested, her cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. Her hands tremble as she tries to dry her tears with a tissue she just plucked from a box on her night-table.

He's not really surprised that before making any noise she senses him and looks up at him. Fresh tears pour down her cheeks and it's painful to watch — even more so to imagine she's been doing this for a while now while he thought she had abandoned him, while he tried to wipe the memory of her off his head.

"I'm sorry," he utters as he pushes the door close and before taking a few steps in her direction. "I was scared and... and lost."

She doesn't say anything and, even better, doesn't get away from him or stops him.

"But I realized I was never really lost. I knew exactly where I was supposed to be, so here I am."

He places the bags on her desk — the neat one with a stack of fashion magazines and another with books that go from Descartes to Barbara Bergmann. She's a little bookworm, and it's hard not to think fondly of those moments she was bundled up with a book in her hands. For a while, Aramis thought she had never allowed herself to be romanced or to daydream about a lover who whispered sweet nothings in her ear. He certainly enjoyed watching her while he did just that and she freed herself from the burden her upbringing had laid upon her. She is a woman, a person with many layers, and he likes her just like that. He loves the way she sees the world with innocent eyes and curiosity, just as much as the way she gets angry when he doesn't use a coaster.

He kneels in front of her and takes her face in his hands. Anne doesn't look at him but he knows she's listening.

"I confess I'm terrified to love you." Now he sees her eyes, wide and bloodshot. "Because I'm afraid of hurting you, of not being enough and of you leaving me. It was always easy to ignore my feelings. But with you, I cannot." He takes as a good sign that she leans against his touch. "Ana, I love you. I'd never forgive myself for being a coward and leave you."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she rasps out. "I swear."

"I know."

"My heart hurt. My chest." Anne starts crying again but he's quick and tender when he dries her cheeks with a tissue. "I've never felt like this before. I've never loved before, and I didn't know what to do."

Aramis kisses her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm and salty. How could he cause so much pain because of love? How could the most marvellous feeling a human is capable of can be so devastatingly crippling?

"We can learn together." He smiles at her and feels relief when she nods. "I'll be here for you and our child, because that's my decision. If you let me, I want to be here. With you. Let me take care of you, keep you safe. You — both of you are my only concern."

It's her who hugs him, trapping him in a fierce embrace that steals air from his lungs but fills him with a renewed sense of life.

"I've loved you from the moment you told me I was overdressed for our first date," she whispers against his ear and a lump grows in his throat. "From the moment you saw me as more than the perfect girl I had been raised to be. When you saw me. Me and nothing more."

o~o~o

When she says she needs a hot shower and to change clothes, it makes him feel better. He's not deluded — Aramis knows she cannot feel great all of the sudden, but she does feel better. There's still much to be discussed, because even if they confessed their feelings, and despite their mutual love, they haven't decided what they are or what they are going to do. There's time for it, though. He's thankful for now being able to talk about them.

While she's taking said shower, he makes the most he can to set their dinner. His hatred for microwaves is well-known, but it's all Anne and Constance have in their room and cold food is barely edible. He's a sybarite, but that's not surprise for those who know him.

"Feeling better?" he asks as soon as her clean face appears at the door. Her hair is knotted atop of her head and she's wearing one of his old sweaters. It looks much too big on her, but also adorable.

"Yes," she mutters, slightly embarrassed as the way she bites her lips indicates. She looks at the food and the obscene size of the _arroz con leche_ he set on the table. Anne giggles a bit. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm sure this is not enough, but someone told me you hadn't been eating right, and that just can't be." He takes Constance's desk chair and settles it near the desk too. "Shall we?"

She smiles and lets him help with her chair, as if they were in a real restaurant.

"Constance worries too much."

"I worry too," he says offhandedly while serving her a healthy-sized piece of omelette. "Had I had more time, I would've cook something for you, but after being such an idiot, this is the best we get."

She reaches for his hand and squeezes his fingers. "Thank you."

Aramis smiles. "Food is no problem."

"No. I mean, for _this_." She sighs. "I felt horrible but it was just because I was scared of more than you not wanting this child. I was afraid you'd change your mind about me."

"Do you think differently of me?" At his question, she shakes her head. "It was merely a misunderstanding. We behaved foolishly, but we're allowed. We are young and feelings are involved." He smiles and leans forward to kiss the tip of her nose, making her grin. "Making mistakes is part of our human nature."

She takes a much too large bite of her food. It's funny, but she's not shy about it. Once she swallows, she looks at him and asks, "Are we together now?"

"We certainly are," he replies, taking a bite himself.

"Aramis," she scolds softly. Anne reads him well.

He chuckles. "Only if you want it."

"I do."

"Then we are."

"Good." She tries to reach dessert with her spoon, but he tsk-tsks.

"After the food."

She pouts, but acquiesces.

They eat in comfortable silence, like before but this time it feels different. It's not just them sneaking around and avoiding people so they couldn't burst the bubble around their relationship. Now it's a choice.

He loves the way her face is alight with childish happiness as she eats her dessert. The sweetness of milk and the smell of cinnamon also takes him back to simpler times. He hopes this becomes the norm — he never felt more at ease with any other girl.

"Stop looking at me eat!" Anne chides, making him smile. "Here," she feeds him a spoonful of dessert. "Good, huh?"

"Mine is better."

She smiles, because they both know he will cook for her. It was one of the things they enjoyed the most. A few times she told him how muchshe liked having dinner with him — most times also joined by Porthos and a few with Athos. Anne likes the feeling of family.

Constance texts her not long after. They exchange a few messages, until Anne tells him Constance is staying with d'Artagnan, and that they have the room to themselves. She sheepishly tells him she would like to be held — just to sleep with her. She's not asking for anything more, he knows. Aramis would never push her for something she doesn't want. He's completely honest when he replies he'd like that, because so far it feels likebeing with her is a dream — one they are not ready to wake up from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I know how it looks, but their struggle doesn't end here. Now if you wish, you can leave prompts and I'll see what I can do about them. Messages, comments and ideas can be left here or at my tumblr over [here](http://theeternalblue.tumblr.com/).


	5. Strength and Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is, well, different now, even if in some sense quite the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more about the new couple, and the troubles they will be facing. Also, musketeer family.

Looking up from his book, Aramis notices the couple of young girls staring at him from behind the shelves of the Young-Adult Fiction section. He has noticed their glances a couple of times, but he only smiles politely and returns to his reading about pregnancy and second trimester.

The job at the book store has proved to be a blessing for him. He likes it, and his boss believes that some costumers only buy because of his charm and patience — like the two girls gossiping while studying the Maggie Stiefvater books. It's not his kind of reading, but he's not there to judge, only to sell books.

Meanwhile, Anne has been feeling better. The nausea has subsided, but she still feels more tired than usual and indulges in some quirky cravings like sour gummy worms with pretty much everything. He laughs about it, but makes sure to have them at hand just in case. But with these small purchases, Aramis has realized that no matter how much he has learned to love his new job, it proves to be insufficient to pay for all of Anne's pregnancy expenses. She's been understanding, saying time and time again she doesn't mind using her money and savings — but they both know that money won't keep coming once her brother finds out the truth.

Needless to say, they've had a rough couple of weeks.

The girls finally buy a couple of books, and giggle when he offhandedly praises their choices — even if it's only thinking about his future financial benefit when they return. It's time to close, so he calmly follows his routine and soon is on his way home.

Home is, well, different now, even if in some sense quite the same.

"Hello?" Aramis greets as soon as he enters the apartment, hanging his coat and scarf.

Anne is quick to lift her head to look at him as she sets the table. Her smile is warm and her big eyes are soft on him — he could never stop enjoying the sight of her happy and safe.

"Hi." She smiles right before he kisses her temple. "Porthos is cooking. He refused to tell what, but he assured me I'd like it. What is that?" She points at the bag on his hands and Aramis is quick to reveal the colourful children's book.

"I read the baby's brain is developing, and we should talk to him... or her. Read. Maybe play some music?" His eyebrows knit together as he tries to make sense of what he's proposing, but before he can worry too much about saying and doing the right thing, Anne kisses his lips tenderly.

"I'd like that. Sounds lovely."

"Lovely what?" Porthos asks in his gruff voice as he exits the kitchen with two plates on his hands.

"Aramis bought a book for the baby," Anne replies before sitting at the table, anxiously waiting for dinner.

Aramis only chuckles as Porthos sets the plate in front of her — sometimes those two get along far too well. They also bicker like little children, particularly for the bathroom in the morning. See, since Anne and Aramis finally started a proper relationship, she's been staying more often than not at his apartment. It's not only because she's grown fond of using him as her pillow, but because he likes to keep her safe and comfortable.

Porthos hasn't complained about the living arrangements, but Aramis knows his friend is also making a sacrifice at accepting a stranger in their home — even if Anne has become Porthos' friend too.

"Grilled chicken with barbecue sauce, with a side of arugula and sour gummy worms salad."

Aramis pulls a face just as he hears the disastrous mix his best friend has created, but just by looking at Anne, he knows better than to say a word about it. She's happy and even kisses Porthos' cheek before digging in with a previously unknown ferocity.

"Don't worry, for us I made mashed potatoes." Porthos laughs.

Aramis' visible relief makes Anne giggle too, but the truth is if he had been forced to eat salad and gummy worms for her, he'd happily do so. Anything for her and the baby.

o~o~o

Wednesdays are Aramis only opportunity to catch up with his sleep. His first class starts at ten, and his shift at the book store is from four in the afternoon until closing time. And not only that, but Porthos leaves early to provide his services as a trainer for some people at the gym, and Anne has classes at eight — he's not selfish, but he enjoys solitude from time to time.

"Do you think you can make time to have lunch with me?" Anne asks while she reenters the bedroom with a towel wrapped around herself — she's less shy once she's sure they are alone.

Aramis mumbles his positive answer and then turns on his stomach to watch her dress. She giggles and makes some quip about how lazy he's being, but she knows him and likes that about him. His face is on her pillow, so he can smell the sweet almond mint shampoo she wears — it calms him. Besides, the sight is perfect. Aramis has always been fascinated by women, in all shapes and sizes. He enjoys observing them, but Anne is especially captivating in her graceful moves and silence. She's shy, but playful — so even if she fastens her bra looking away from him, she catches his eye over her shoulder.

"You study me like a zoo animal," she grumbles, but while smiling, so he knows he's not in trouble.

Aramis closes his eyes and chuckles while shaking his head no. "I love watching beautiful things, people, scenes... you're too beautiful." It is then when she turns around in her underwear and he notices the small bump on her stomach. It's barely there, but she's showing and he can't stop the way his heart flutters.

"Don't say that," Anne whispers while stepping into her jeans. It seems like she hasn't noticed how her belly is expanding, because her brow furrows when she struggles to button them up. "I'm _bigger_ ," she mumbles, but not with disgust or sadness, but surprise. Her pants remain open and he gets out of bed just to kiss her, and smile at her when his hand rests on her stomach.

"Which means more of your beauty."

She looks up at him, and her smile is a bit watery. "Help me pick another outfit?"

He likes his lazy Wednesday mornings, but he likes more the times he gets to see his child growing and being part of the changes.

o~o~o

Friday nights usually meant for him to go out with the boys, have a few drinks and unwind after a long week. Things changed once Aramis found out he will become a father, but Anne encourages him to go anyway, claiming she'll be fine on her own, and the fridge is stocked as the pantry — meaning she has enough gummy worms to last her at least the night. Porthos almost drags him out, but in reality Aramis can't wait to show them the image he got of his child during the last doctor's appointment. The child is a little blurry, and not fully developed yet, but the doctor is confident he got the sex right. _It's a boy!_ And yes, he would've been just as happy with a little girl, but the truth is he might have felt inadequate at this point in his life. Maybe the next one... but when he thinks about that, it's absolutely frightening to have such long-term plans with Anne when they have just started a proper relationship.

"It's a boy!" Porthos bellows as he smacks Aramis on the back, as soon as they set foot inside the pub. He certainly took away the joy of announcing the big news, but he's just as excited as Aramis is. D'artagnan and Athos look content as well — but it's more noticeable in the younger man's face than their grumpy friend's expression tells. Still, it is one of those rare times Athos attempts to smile.

"Congratulations," d'Artagnan says as soon as they are near, hugging him. "But I already knew. I was with Constance when Anne called."

Aramis rolls his eyes, but he knows better than to be angry. Constance is Anne's best friend, so it was only right for her to call while he was texting Porthos.

"Now comes the dreadful task of choosing a name," Athos says in usual sombre manner. It's typical of him to point out the most difficult tasks to come while still revelling in a victory, so his three friends stare at him with less amusement than before. "What?" he mumbles right before sipping his wine.

"Ignore him," Porthos grins as he takes a pint of ale and takes a gulp. "He's just a sad old man."

Athos glares at Porthos, but they are quite aware is not going anywhere. They are like this and otherwise they wouldn't be friends.

"Is she happy about it?" d'Artagnan asks. "I somehow believe all first-time mothers want a daughter."

Aramis smiles. "Anne is very happy. In fact, she was quite sure we were having a boy from the beginning. I think she wished it so hard, the baby had no other choice but to obey. And I'm glad too."

"You do know the girls will soon want to start preparing for the baby and all?" d'Artagnan continues. "I mean, Constance was already looking at the calendar looking for a date for a babyshower."

It's true. Their friends will try to help as much as they can, and Aramis couldn't possibly be upset about it. They are a family.

"And, by the way," Porthos starts lowly, clearing his throat before saying more. "I believe you two should already make things official. I really don't mind."

Aramis stares at him for a while, brows furrowed and confused. "We are official. I thought we've made that clear."

"No, no. I mean about her moving in." Oh. Well, Aramis was afraid to ask before, partially because Porthos had agreed to move out of campus to have privacy for their, ahem, conquests. "You know there's a little studio we use as a closet. We could clean that up. It's extremely small, but babies are small, aren't they?"

Aramis chuckles before patting his friend's back. "Yes, they are. Thank you." He then looks at d'Artagnan and Athos. "And since you so gentlemanly offered, you two can help throwing away all that garbage Porthos has accumulated there. I cannot repeat how thankful I am."

D'Artagnan splutters, but Athos only shakes his head while raising an eyebrow.

"Twat," Athos mumbles under his breath, but the four of them laugh and continue their celebration.

o~o~o

After a few drinks that leave him buzzed and slightly more gleeful than normal, Aramis decides to go home and check on Anne. His friends will keep celebrating for him, but he needs to just curl up in bed with his girlfriend and feel safe with his family. That's celebrating for him.

What he doesn't expect when he enters the apartment is to see Anne crying and sniffling while holding the phone tight to her ear. He hears her muttering in Spanish between hiccups, and his heart tightens painfully in his chest. It's one of the scenes he most hates — seeing her cry or being hurt is enough for him to lose it.

"Who are you talking to?" he demands softly after approaching her.

Her eyes are red and tears pour down her cheeks. She's surprised to see him for a second, but then she shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head.

"Anne," he calls again, hearing a male voice bellowing through the phone. "Give me the phone."

"No," she whispers.

"Please, give it to me," Aramis tries in a gentle voice again.

"You don't understand," she says in a strangled voice.

"It's your brother, isn't it?"

Anne watches him for a second before nodding.

"Give me the phone." And this time, she acquiesces. "Hello?"

There's a pause on the other end, but soon a grave voice with a barely noticeable accent replies, "Who am I talking to? What happened to my sister?"

Aramis caresses the side of Anne's face, wordlessly making sure she'll be fine, and then he moves towards the kitchen to keep the rest of his interaction far from her vulnerable heart.

"This is Aramis, Anne's boyfriend." His tone is even, void of anger, because even if he would like to yell a thing or two at Philip, Aramis knows the man is part of the few relatives Anne has, and he will not force her to give up on that. He'll protect her, though.

"You!" Philip, on the other hand, is completely besides himself. "What have you done to her? What kind of tricks have you played to lure her into your trap? This was not in her plans! This is not what's expected from a girl like her! Pregnancy? How could you let her carry on with it?"

Now he's getting angry. Yes, he knows he is partially guilty for the pregnancy, but can you talk about guilt when it involves love and a new life? Aramis doesn't think so. It means responsability, something different from the evil implied behind guilt. And he will be fully responsible for the welfare of his child and Anne.

"There were no tricks. No games. We fell in love, and what happened wasn't part of the plan, but that doesn't make the child any less welcome." Aramis hears the derisive snort and, for the first time, wishes he could have this man in front of him to shake some sense into him. "But how could you understand love, if you can't support your sister in her state?"

"What? Does she want pity from me? I had plans for her! She only needed to follow them and there wouldn't be a worry in her life. But there she goes claiming to fall in love with a middle-class literature student who couldn't possibly give her the life she's used to." Aramis has thought about it before — he's always afraid of not being good enough. "And when she realizes about it, who will want her? A single mother with too much education and a sordid past."

"I love her! I want her and my child," Aramis spits between gritted teeth. "How can you not see she's much more than a piece in a game? She's fully capable of making her decisions and choose her path in life. This time she chose me, and our child. I feel blessed. If tomorrow she doesn't want me, that's her decision as well. But make no mistake, she will never let herself be subjugated again. Not by me or you or anyone. And this realization was your doing by sending her here, as your plan. But it has freed her. So thank you, for placing this wonderful woman in my path."

"How dare you!"

"If you wish to apologize, I'm sure you know where to call. Meanwhile, I'd appreciate you leave her alone and not stress her." Aramis takes a deep calming breath, while leaning against the counter and feeling the rage coursing through his veins more slowly, until it fades away.

"This is not the end of this. We still need to discuss the details ofthe money arrangements, her inheritance and the tuition. If she believes she's mature enough to handle a precious little family, then she'll surely manage the business and everything else. Tell her the lawyers will be in touch."

Before the call is disconnected, there's not other word.

Aramis always knew it would be hard for Anne to tell her family, particularly her brother. He just never thought it would be such a disaster.

"I thought," Anne starts while wiping away a tear with her sleeve. She's standing by the entrance of the kitchen, looking smaller than usual and frightened. "I thought Philip would be glad to be an uncle now that we knew the baby is a boy. He always wanted a brother, so..." she licks her lips, shaking her head. "I was wrong."

He doesn't register how he makes his way to her, but soon he envelops her in a comforting hug. Aramis hates to see her cry, especially when it involves them and the baby. He doesn't want her to doubt or regret pursuing this with him, trying to achieve happiness.

Kissing the crown of her head, he whispers nonsensical words of comfort. He hums a Spanish lullaby and gets a watery laugh from her.

"Thank you," Anne whispers, clinging to him.

"You have nothing to thank me for."

"Yes. I do. I have this baby to thank you for. And even if I'm crying now, I know he's making me stronger. You both are teaching me how."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like Athos said, now we have the problem of the boy's name. Clearly he won't be called Louis, so do you have any suggestions?


	6. Motherly Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again. You're great in case you've forgotten. Thank you for reading!

It certainly feels like the end of a period in her life she'll remember fondly. It's true, Anne's not moving to another city or very far from her best friend, but she won't have late night conversations with Constance or the chance of sharing their school supplies and gossip about boyfriends — at least it won't be the same way. But she also wants to start this new relationship stage with Aramis. Neither of them has ever lived with a romantic partner, but they are willing to compromise and so far things have been great and, more importantly, Porthos has also been incredible at accepting the new circumstances.

"Um, you do know you're less than fifteen minutes away, right? On foot?" Aramis mutters with a humorous lilt while Anne hugs Constance, both holding each other as tight as they can. Yes, they are being over-dramatic, but no one understands how much they felt like family after almost a year of knowing each other.

"We know," Anne replies, smiling at him over Constance's shoulder. "But it's different now."

"And expect me to drop by at any given time. I'll keep an eye on her," Constance warns him. "You have to keep her safe and make sure she takes her vitamins, and not to e at t oo m uch c andy —"

"I'm not a child!" Anne complains indignantly, but Aramis and Constance just look at her. "I'm not. And as much as I enjoy you two coddling me, I also like to behave like a capable adult."

Aramis sighs, smiling. "You're more than capable, but your overachieving attitude sometimes prevents you from remember to take care of yourself. You've been doing great at balancing school and pregnancy. Your grades haven't been affected despite the morning sickness, the tiredness, and everything else. We're just making sure everything else is checked."

Constance nods at his words. "It's true. We know you want to prove yourself, so we're helping."

"It's scary when the two of you agree on something." Anne reaches for the backpack with the last of her belongings, but before she can lift it, Aramis takes it from her hands. She glares at him for a full second before his charming smile dissolves her anger away when he offers her a hand to take.

She's aware no one is trying to make her look and feel useless by helping her, but she does feel like that. All her life she's been  helped to do things and by going to university she wanted to prove she can do things by herself. She doesn't want to be a spoiled wealthy girl — Anne wants to be independent and capable and prove herself. Sometimes Aramis' eagerness to save her clashes against her need of flying free, but she knows he does it with good intentions.

"Remember we're having dinner together," Anne tells Constance. "I'll be waiting for you to criticize everything the boys have done. It's fun to watch them squirm."

Constance chuckles, but it's true. She is like a mother figure — a bit scary and authoritative but loving.

"We're not scared of her," Aramis says.

"Keep telling yourself that," Constance replies while Anne giggles.

o~o~o

Sitting on the floor, in front of Aramis' closet, Anne decides to organize a bit.

The boys left an hour or so ago to play football with some friends, but she wasn't feeling great to accompany them, so under the condition of not exerting herself, Aramis and Porthos left her alone. Anne cannot say she hates to have a little time to herself — testosterone is very present in the apartment, and even if she likes the change of scenery, she also likes the feminine touch.

She spent half hour on Skype talking to Maria Anna, who was terribly happy with the news of becoming an aunt, unlike their brother — and she also praises Anne's taste in men after showing her a picture of Aramis, making Anne blush.

"He's  so much cuter than Louis! Good for you."

Anne laughs at how perky and adorable her sister is, promising she'll visit once the school year is over and that she can't wait to go shopping for the baby.

It's certainly a great time for her after the horrible experience of talking to her brother.

Anne rubs her belly, now bigger than before. Since recently she has felt a fluttering in her stomach from time to time and she likes it. It's great to feel a connection between her child and herself.

Folding the clothes neatly, she makes enough room for her new clothes, the ones that fit her growing belly. It's interesting seeing the closet with Aramis' clothes on one side and hers next to them, watching their shoes lined up and their things mixed up around the bedroom. It's a sign of how her life is now intertwined with his, but it feels strange and she wonders if this is only momentary.

She hasn't told him, but she's afraid they have rushed into things. Of course she knows that if they decide for one reason or another to go separate ways, she could stand on her two feet — she just doesn't want to have doubts about them. It's tiresome to be so insecure regarding their relationship, when she's so self-assured about everything else in life. And she doesn't want to address it because she knows Aramis will tell her she's being silly.

Pushing those thoughts out of her head, she gets up and decides to do some  online shopping for the baby, checking some ideas for the tiny nursery the boys plan to make in the room at the end of the hall, next to the one Aramis and she use. She thinks a nice shade of blue for the details would be great, while keeping the room a neutral colour so it looks more luminous.

She is half way through her pregnancy, barely twenty weeks, but she's so tempted to purchase a beautiful crib she sees online. It's made of dark wood and it's convertible and there's a matching dresser! But of course, it's expensive and she doesn't want to make Aramis feel bad by ignoring his opinion regarding this piece of furniture. It's beyond the point the fact she can afford it. But it's on sale...

While still debating whether or not to click on the button to add it to the shopping cart, Anne hears someone calling at the door. She assumes the boys forgot the keys, so she drags her slipper-clad feet quickly towards the front door. Right after tugging the t-shirt over her swollen belly, she pulls the door open and gets ready to tease the boys for forgetting the keys. Instead she meets an older woman with dark hair and warm eyes who smiles at her for a moment until her eyes travel down to meet Anne's stomach.

Anne feels queasy out of the sudden, and she knows it's not the pregnancy's doing.

"Seems like my surprise visit has surprised us both," Sofia says softly while Anne's eyes widen in panic. 

"Sofia, I—" Anne wishes she could've thought about what she would say in this circumstances before. She's good with plans and likes to think ahead and be ready for any situation, but lately life's been difficult and she's had to improvise — she's not very good at it yet.

But before Anne can figure out what to say, Sofia place a gentle hand on the swell of Anne's belly. "Is my grandchild a boy or a girl?" The woman smiles at Anne with such warmth, Anne releases a breath she was holding.

"A boy," Anne says quietly, a lonely tear rolling down her cheek.

"Oh, my dear," Sofia coos the way only mothers can do before wrapping Anne in a hug. "It's fine, no need to cry. Now, my boy in the other hand... How could he keep this from me?"

Anne chuckles while still revelling in the comfort of Sofia's arms. It's incredible how much a mother can understand without words, but Anne knows it's not just about motherhood. It has a lot to do with the person — they have or haven't those qualities in them, and she hopes she does. She just wants to be a good mom.

o~o~o

Anne is attentively watching as Sofia makes a complete meal with whatever she finds in the fridge. She's still not a very good cook, but she's put an effort and whenever she can, she tries to learn a few more tricks. There's really no problem when Sofia instructs her to stir some delicious sauce, but she does it with such determination, Aramis' mom asks her to relax.

Some noise and raucous laughter signal the boys' arrival. And at such point, Anne panics again. Should she welcome them and give Aramis the heads up or just let him find out? After all, they hadn't talked about telling their families and what happened with her brother didn't encourage them to do so.

"Go," Sofia tells her with a smile. "Don't want him to get defensive on me."

And so she goes.

Porthos and Aramis stand dumbfounded in the middle of the main room, sniffing the air. When they see her they look half-terrified and half-amused.

"Are you making lunch?" Aramis wonders in disbelief. He looks awfully good for a guy with his hair tied up in small knot at the back of his head, and sweaty in football get-up. Anne knows she shouldn't feel so attracted in this moment when she can smell the stench from considerable distance.

"Kind of," she murmurs and then the three of them hear the sound of pots and spoons from the kitchen.

Aramis' brow furrows. "Who is that?" He moves closer. "Did you invite someone?"

"No, but she's not a stranger and we should make her feel welcome." Anne sighs, bites her lip and looks at Porthos standing behind Aramis. He seems to understand faster than his friend what's going on, and therefore chuckles. "Your mom arrived this morning after you left. She's the one making lunch. I was helping her."

"My mother?" Aramis babbles while Porthos quickly makes his way to greet Sofia. "Does she know?"

Anne rolls her eyes. He can be so adorably stupid whenever he wants to. She's sure he's just nervous and that's why he's asking that, because unless Sofia were blind, and even if so, no one could miss the shape of her belly. It's not like she looks a few pounds heavier — she has a round protruding thing that looks as if she were hiding a small balloon under her shirt.

"Aramis," Anne says with amusement, laughing a little at the end when she points at her belly. "Are you kidding?"

He laughs at himself. "Okay. Fine." He shakes his head. "Is she— what—" He sighs.

"She wants to talk, but she's taken it quite well in fact." Her voice trembles a bit, and the words are strung together when she speaks quickly. Anne is nervous too, and she's not hiding it. 

"Like Maria Anna?" Aramis quips, because he was there when she got the first email from her sister after telling her the news. He told her he'd never seen so many emojis together in one email.

Anne laughs. "No one will take it as well as her."

"Come on," Aramis says as he reaches for her hand. "Let's get this over with. But promise you'll have my back." Anne giggles as they walk toward the kitchen where voices can be heard.

Porthos and Sofia are talking animatedly, and probably sharing gossip about them. Anne doesn't really mind because these are two people she likes very much — Porthos has become some sort of big brother to her, and Sofia is slowly becoming a good friend and mother figure.

"Mother," Aramis greets formally, right before Sofia squishes his cheeks together as if he were a child.

"Good lord, Aramis," Sofia scolds. "Quit pretending I'm a t errible monster. True, I came here to spoil you for the weekend, but apparently Anne is the one getting spoiled." He playfully pouts, but everyone is sure he isn't in much trouble. "You better make sure she's comfortable and having everything she wishes."

Anne beams at this.

"Did I tell you about the time your father decided to sleep on the floor for almost a month after I told him my back hurt when he was near me? I was pregnant with you! He didn't complain once! Such a good man," Sofia babbles as she returns to the stove to check the food. "He took time to rub my feet, keep an eye on your sisters, and run the pub."

"Mom—"

"You'll need to tell him. I won't make this easier for you," Sofia warns, and Anne knows this is the hardest thing Aramis will need to do regarding his family. "You call him or visit, but you do this soon."

"Yes, mom," Aramis replies obediently.

"And now you two go shower. You stink," Sofia scolds the boys and shoos them away.

Anne stares at the scene with new curiosity. She never got to experience these interactions with her family — everything was quite different when her parents raised them with formality and in a very strict environment. She likes this.

"Dear, would you set the table?" Sofia interrupts her thoughts and Anne nods while smiling.

"Sure."

o~o~o

They can tell Aramis gets a little jealous of the way Sofia and she give attention to Porthos, but they feel so bad for taking more things from him. Porthos was gracious enough to lend his room to Sofia for the weekend, and take the couch, since he knows Anne could never leave the bedroom and there aren't many options. He's just incredible like that.

"You're incredible too," Sofia tells her son, but Aramis glares at her a bit. She's being condescending, which makes them all laugh. "But you could've told me about my grandson. I would've  brought a few things I kept from when you were a baby."

Anne's ears perk up at this. "Do you have pictures?"

"Of course!" Sofia gushes with such happiness. "But he was so cheeky! There must be so many of him running naked around the house. The girls were afraid to invite friends over right until Aramis was about eight, I believe."

"Mamá," Aramis mumbles in Spanish, slightly embarrassed.

"Once he decided to take a shower with the dog right in our backyard. I had to shower them both later, after they finished covered in mud."

Porthos and Anne laugh, mostly because they agree it sounds very much like Aramis to have an exhibitionist trait, or at least not being ashamed of his physique.

"Oh, but I also have the letters he wrote to his kindergarten teacher. Most of them were drawings. He had such a crush on her. It was adorable!"

"Mother, please."

"Could you bring them when you visit next time?" Anne asks hopefully, and Sofia looks at her with a watery smile. "What? Have I said something wrong?" She turns to Aramis, hoping he can shed some light on the situation. He just smiles at her.

"Do you want me to visit again?" Sofia wonders.

Anne blinks at her. Perhaps Sofia thought she was a nuisance, but Anne can't be more grateful. "I'd like it, if you can. It'd be nice to get some input about motherhood since... well, I don't have many people I can ask advice to. I was hoping you could teach me a few things, if it's alright with you."

"And you can help them with the names," Porthos provides good-naturedly, but he soon gets the glares from Anne and Aramis. They had agreed on not talking about it for at least a while, right after a small discussion they had about leaning for a name of Spanish origin or not, a one that had history within their families, or a new quirky one that meant more to them. "Or not?"

"Oh, do not worry. When you have to decide, the name that belongs to him will feel right. And if you need good opinions, ask Henry. My husband picked each of our children's names and I could only agree. He's great at it."

Anne looks at Aramis, hoping he says something, but she knows this will be the one thing he'll need to overcome. She just wishes the distance between father and soon can be soon put behind them, because she wants their son to enjoy his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read some of your suggestions and even if I would like it to be a little homage to René, I do believe it's a little old fashioned and not as nice in this day and age as it probably was back in the day (did you know Kermit the Frog is known as Rana René in Latin America?). And doing some research about Aramis as a musketeer, I read about Henri d'Aramitz, and for a moment I thought about the name Henry, but later decided to give the name to his father. And I do like the idea of Alonso (Quixote, and idea from Ana), Tristan (like Tristan and Isolde, Aramis' lover and YoureMyTicket) or something more classic (like suggested by Molly). Or it could be a name from Anne's family (Maximilian, Charles, William, Ferdinand, all kings or emperors). Your ideas are very welcome, because I still haven't decided.


	7. Life Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows how bad he is at being on time or remembering dates, so the baby and Anne are the main subject of every notification on his mobile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few humorous bits in this chapter. Something to make this a little lighter.

He hears her sighing in his ear while his lips kiss the soft skin right under her ear. Aramis relishes on the feeling of Anne's fingers carding through his hair and the little sounds she makes whenever they are _intimate_ — it's adorable to see her blushing when she admits she craves a more physical aspect of their relationship. Anne refuses to plainly call it sex. He agrees it's different when such strong feelings are involved, but right now they are just snogging and being lazy in the morning. It's early, and they went to bed early as well, so they have time to play in bed.

"Aramis," Anne says quietly before he kisses her lips softly, with patience as one of her hands trails down his side, tickling him, over his ribs; the other one tugs gently at his hair. He's been meaning to get a haircut, but Anne likes to play with his hair and he enjoys being groomed.

Her belly is pressing against his stomach. He likes the feeling of closeness.

"You're beautiful, did you know that?" he tells her lamely. Aramis blames his lack of clever lines on the fact he's still half immersed in the haze of sleep.

Anne smiles and traces his hairline with one finger, pushing back some of his hair. "Who wouldn't like to wake up to you and those words?"

He chuckles softly and dives in to keep kissing her again, but he must do something wrong, because next thing he feels are her hand on his shoulders, pushing him back.

"Stop."

"What did I do?" Aramis falls next to her on his back, only lifting his head to look at her sweet pale face, her golden hair mussed in big waves.

Anne giggles as she makes her way out of bed with some difficulty — her pregnant belly is bigger by the day. "Nothing." He arches an eyebrow while she fetches her girly terrycloth bathrobe from the chair she keeps near the door, where she places her clothes for the day the night before. She's so organized, it's a little scary for a free-spirit such as himself. She's the kind of person who makes lists and has apps on her phone that organize her day, and schedules time with friends and some voluntary work, while he dislikes to plan two days ahead.

"Darling," he prods in a deep voice and her cheeks tint in a crimson colour when she looks away. "Anne?"

"I need to use the bathroom," she hisses, glaring at him with some embarrassment still etched on her face. "The baby squeezes my bladder. Are you happy?"

He grins. "Much."

Anne giggles despite how much she tries to hide it. She confessed to him once how much she likes the way he breaks her routine, how she enjoys being surprised and the way he helps her be more spontaneous.

She makes a quick exit out of the bedroom while tying her bathrobe.

Aramis lies back and checks the time on his phone on the night-table. It's barely six and he could catch at least one hour more of sleep, but he should make sure Anne doesn't need anything before dozing off. He closes his eyes, but doesn't fall asleep, at least not fully.

He bolts right out off bed, tripping on the sheets, when he hears a sharp scream, followed by the sound of someone slamming a door. Aramis runs out into the corridor barefoot and in just underwear, only to find Anne standing outside the bathroom, red-faced and with her hands clutching her bathrobe before she dashes in his direction.

"What happened?" He wraps his arms around her.

Anne only shakes her head.

It's seconds later that Porthos emerges from the bathroom with only a towel covering his lower half, looking as remorseful as Anne does. The man opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

Aramis' gaze travels from his best friend to his girlfriend. And back again. His eyes widen slightly, and he wonders how much Anne saw to have them both so embarrassed, but he gets an explanation very soon when the head of a girl with long hair and tanned skin pops out of the bathroom.

"Porthos," she starts before she notices Aramis and Anne still standing there. "Oh." Mara looks away as fast as she can, and steps back into the bathroom.

Aramis eyes widen even more while looking at his friend.

"Sorry," Porthos mumbles like a child who has been caught doing mischief — which Aramis gets it's probably true in this case. "I—"

"Just lock the door next time," Aramis says with too much amusement for everyone's liking. "We're all adults here, and surely no one saw anything they haven't seen before. It'll just make breakfast a lot more awkward for everyone but me."

Anne glares up at him, and Porthos narrows his gaze.

"What? He's the one giving away free peep shows, and I'm the one getting judged?"

Anne smacks his arm to chastise him, but Aramis only laughs. She stomps away angrily, back to the bedroom, leaving him there. Porthos shakes his head and walks into the bathroom again.

"Lock the door!" Aramis shouts. "And hurry up because Anne needs to tinkle!"

" _Aramis_!" Anne hisses from their bedroom.

He smiles brightly at her for all two seconds before she bursts into a fit of giggles. He knows he's being ridiculous, but he needed to play it down before she worried too much about it. Aramis knows Anne, and how her mind works, so he had to behave this way. It's for the better. If they see it as something humorous, then there won't be any trouble in keeping living together.

There's nothing worse than ruining a nice life over silly little things.

(Plus, he's elated Porthos is getting to enjoy life as well. Good for him!)

o~o~o

Aramis is working at the bookstore one afternoon. It's a slow day, so he takes sometime to do some studying while the couple of customers in the store walk idly through the aisles.

The register is near the door, so when Anne steps in, he notices her immediately. She looks magnificent in a red dress and flat shoes. Her hair is in a braid over her shoulder and she's carrying her brown bag, the one he uses sometimes to go to school — they really shouldn't be that comfortable after only two months of living together, but it works.

"Hello," he greets her as he'd do with any other person, but his smile betrays him. Aramis knows it because she flusters and approaches him slowly.

"Hi."

He's the one leaning over the counter, with a flourish, to kiss her chastely on the lips. The way her dainty hand covers his is never something he could dislike — her demonstrations of affection might not be grandiose, but the little things build something perfect.

"Have I forgotten something?" he asks while running his thumb over her knuckles. "Did I say I ended my shift earlier? Do we have an appointment I forgot about? I swear I keep all baby related things in my phone so I don't forget," he babbles. But it's the truth. Everyone knows how bad he is at being on time or remembering dates, so the baby and Anne are the main subject of every notification on his mobile.

"No, it's not that," Anne replies with sadness, even if she smiles. "It's this." She places a copy of amagazine on the counter — a Spanish gossip magazine — and then she leafs through it, looking for something until she finds a picture of her and Constance walking down the street, just leaving a baby clothes store. "As you know, I come from a prominent family in Spain. That's no news. I just thought... I thought that wouldn't be such a problem here."

"Anne, darling?"

She smiles at him. "My father dreaded public events. He despised having to show us off." She sniffles a little, before he cups the side of her face. "Philip will hate it, and therefore the baby and me."

He doesn't know what to do. Truly. This is not something he has faced before, and he would like very much to tell her he'll fix it, but he doesn't have the power to do it. It's extremely unfair to put her under so much stress in her state. This won't help her case at all with Philip. What he hates the most it's all the speculation in only a few lines that shouldn't be call an article. It's all about how she broke up with Louis, wondering if she became some sort of wild girl and got herself pregnant in an accident with a nobody — he absolutely hates to think the last part is half-true at least.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do this, Aramis," Anne replies quickly. "I didn't come here to make you feel guilty."

"But I—"

"Honestly, if you say something self-deprecating, I'll slap that handsome face of yours." She takes his face in her hands and presses her lips firmly to his. "I love you, silly. I needed to vent my anger, not to have my boyfriend with stupid thoughts in his head."

He grins at her. "You've spent too much time with Constance, miss."

She laughs softly. "Maybe." It's soon when she moves so she's standing behind the counter, next to him. Aramis would be more scared of the manager finding her there, but unsurprisingly, the woman loves Anne. And he has serious doubts that the manager only likes him because of Anne, since she called him _pretty boy_ too many times before meeting Anne. "By the way, did you know Ninon asked Athos on a date?"

Aramis turns to look at her. "Did she?"

"Apparently she grew tired of waiting for him to make up his mind and took matters into her hands." Anne smiles at him. "Doesn't it sound just like her?"

He laughs. "Well, yes, it does."

"I think they are made for each other. Of course, they'll clash more often than not — Athos is a little abrasive at first." She looks apologetic, but she's known for speaking her mind despite the consequences. Besides, she does it in such way that it's impossible to think she's doing it to cause damage. "Ninon is very aggressive with her opinions too, but there's a whole side of her that's very tender. I believe Athos has that too. They are lonely people and that's awful. I was like that too."

Aramis watches her marvelling on the fact that she's so observant. He enjoys listening to her opinions, how around him there's no filter for her thoughts and feelings. He's glad things are like that, because it'd be scary to feel like the only one not holding back.

It's soon when a middle-age man approaches him to ask a question about some art books — he has a son who loves urban art and he wants to surprise him or such. Aramis tells him whatever he can, considering he leans more towards the classics and performing art, and not much about graffiti.

"He's studying to be a designer." The man frowns at the two books with pictures of graffiti art.

"If you want my opinion," Anne starts, earning herself a look from him and the customer. "Those are very mainstream books, and what you want is to stand out. I'm not saying you're going wrong with Banksy. You should take it, but I would suggest some of street art, or history of graffiti... oh! There's a marvellous one about buildings in decay brought to life with graffiti, making them living museums."

And just like that she sells the man three books. He'd be more frightened if the manager was around — she'd probably fire him on the spot to hire Anne. But he loves her for that — and a little more by the way she looks at him when a young woman asks for suggestions of books similar to some obscure mystery novel — Georges Perec's _A Void_ — and he flawlessly lists a couple.

They complement each other like that. Just like when she chooses the food and he picks the dessert on their way home.

Even the worst days can turn into something better with the right person.

o~o~o

"How about Charles?" Anne suggests while the boys watch football on the television. They have their chips, their beers and some cookies Anne suggested in case they wanted something sweet. She's happy with her apple juice and pickled onions while searching for a baby's name.

"What Charles?" Aramis asks with eyes trained on the screen.

"Name. For the baby. _Our_ baby?"

Porthos chuckles at the annoyance in Anne's voice. If there's something she can't stand, that is being ignored.

"Sounds old."

"Old? It's classic and suggests strong character." Anne huffs, but lets it go. Aramis knows she wasn't keen on the name because she has an uncle with the same one, and she really disliked him. "And William?" He glances at her, arching an eyebrow, and she giggles. "Fine. That's a no to William."

"It could be Alonso, like Don Quixote," Aramis tells while leaning forward as his teams just misses the chance of scoring.

"Like a crazy old man?"

"Not crazy!" Aramis argues. "Anne", he scolds her when she laughs. She knows how much he loves that book and should know better than to mock him.

She stays quiet while searching for more options.

They never thought naming someone could be so hard, but it's something they need to think through. Their son will have to live with it and they will need to get used to it. They have to like it — and so far they have only agreed on not to name him like food or a thing.

Half-time arrives and Porthos gets up to get another beer, leaving the parents alone.

"Anything?"

Anne shakes her head. "I'd like to be one of those women who have a list of names for when they have children." That makes him laugh. She might've been raised in a traditional and old-fashioned home, but she became a rebel through small gestures.

"Alexander," Porthos says as he plops down on the couch, and both Aramis and Anne watch him, blinking at him as he had spoken in another language. "For the babe. _Your_ babe."

"That was my grandfather's name," Aramis mumbles. His father's father. He was Aramis' favourite grandparent, and he doesn't know why he hadn't thought about it before.

"Like Alexander the Great, Dumas, and your grandfather." Anne's smiles broadens. "Classic, strong and yet modern and familiar. I like it very much. Porthos, I could kiss you," she says it jokingly. Obviously.

"Please, don't." Porthos is smiling at her, all the awkwardness of the previous week already vanished. (Mara still refuses to visit, but they hope they can get together soon and share sometime... outside the bathroom.)

"Yeah," Aramis frowns. "Her breath must be terrible with all those pickled onions she's eaten."

She slaps his thigh while both men laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? How about the baby's name? I actually didn't know if I was going to choose it until I started writing. Hopefully you like it too. Let me know.


	8. Part Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I asked the doctor for some copies of the last baby pictures. Sofia will love them. And your dad. Do you think I'll be able to see those pictures of you as a child now?"

"You look more nervous than I feel," Anne says while he drums his fingers on the steering wheel of d'Artagnan's car. Fortunately for him and Anne, their friend had no problem with lending them the vehicle for the weekend to visit his parents, this time for less than festive reasons — at least in some part.

"I'm not."

She hums her reply, as if she was agreeing, but he knows she's just mocking him.

"I am not nervous." Aramis repeats it to make a point but it's really unnecessary. She doesn't believe it.

This time Anne giggles. "Aramis! You woke up three hours before the time we agreed to leave. _And_ you've been twitchy all week. Or even more than usual."

He glances at her in her sweet floral dress, the almost non-existent makeup covering her face and the classic pearl earrings she chose to wear. Anne looks like the perfect girl for introducing to his parents — they already love her — the problem is he knows he's less than perfect. Aramis doesn't fear his father will have something against Anne or the baby. No. Of course not! The man will just think his son has ruined yet another beautiful thing with his thirst for life and impetuosity.

At least he has a job now, which is more than he could tell the last time they saw each other.

"I'm fine."

"Fine. I will not pressure you into telling me you're terrified of your father's reaction." This time he huffs. Sometimes it's easy to forget that just like he has learned to read her like an open book, she has done the same with him. Anne is very good at guessing the meaning of his gestures — because he might say a lot with words, but the important things are deeds. "I asked the doctor for some copies of the last baby pictures. Sofia will love them. And your dad. Do you think I'll be able to see those pictures of you as a child now?"

"I'm sure my mother will be pleased to get them for you. I was an adorable child, so she must keep them at hand to display them on need."

"You're so conceited." Anne leans a little to the side and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "I truly dislike you have reason to be like that."

Aramis laughs. He doesn't say anything about how she's stubborn and a know-it-all — they aren't perfect by all means. They have flaws, but Aramis believes there's a magic in them that gives form to the pieces of the puzzle of their relationship, making them fit. Good qualities are the foundations, but the details have kept them together. It truly must be, because it's the first time he's not feeling suffocated by a woman, hoping to run off the first chance he gets.

"Did I tell you Maria Anna plans to visit during summer? She was hoping for the baby to be born by then."

"You'd wish that so you don't miss classes." He shoots her a look. "Nerd."

Anne purses her lips and narrows her eyes — actually, he cannot say he's sure about it, but he feels the weight of her glare on him, burning him with reproach.

"I happen to like school." She's huffy and adorable. If he wasn't driving he'd kiss the breath out of her.

"Let's hope our child inherits that from you. It'll save us a lot of trouble if that's the case."

"I bet you were one of those boys who cut class, got in trouble and still had good grades. People must've disliked you because of that and loved you because you were cool, and a smooth-talker, good at sports and popular with the girls."

He grins. More than once, Aramis has thought that if for some reason he met someone just like him, he would hate him. It's not that he has had an easy life, or that he has everything, but he does get everything he wishes for — but like a bratty boy, he gets bored quickly and leaves things half-done. Ideas are much more lovable than reality.

"I bet you had boys following you around like puppies while you had your nose stuck inside books and never gave them the time of the day."

Anne blushes. She told him all about her first boyfriend — an eighteen-year-old college boy when she was sixteen — he was tutoring Maria Anna at the time, and often entertained her with his thoughts about changing the world and utopic dreams. Philip didn't approve, and that time turned out he was right — Anne's ex-boyfriend broke up with her when he met someone more _mature_ at his university. It broke her heart.

"Maybe. But you like that, and I like it when you show me to live outside books."

He smiles.

"But perhaps only for this weekend we could back to your world and skip my parents' invitation," Aramis quips.

She only laughs.

o~o~o

They arrive at his childhood home a little before lunch time. The both of them are a little surprised to see a couple of cars parked outside. Aramis has a good idea as to why those cars are there — his mother told him all about how she wanted to reunite her family some day. Apparently, she thought this was the day and what better than not telling him.

"We could always go back," he says only half-joking, because he wouldn't blame Anne if she didn't want the stress of meeting his sisters and probably their husbands and children and... oh, lord, what have they gotten themselves into? "I think we should go back."

Anne's big and shiny eyes study him while smiling. "I can honestly say this is the most scared I've ever seen you in all the time we've been together."

After parking the car, he helps Anne getting out of it. He's generally protective of Anne — and the people he cares about — but lately he has been more than usual and she has noticed it. She doesn't like it when he makes a big deal out of her pregnancy, because she wishes to blend in, which in his opinion is basically impossible.

The front door is open before they can even get close to it. Sofia is waiting for them with open arms and a smile devoid of any guilt. She obviously thinks this is perfect for the family, even if Aramis disagrees.

"Honey," Sofia coos at the sight of Anne. "You're glowing. How are you feeling? Tired?"

Aramis stands there and watches as his mother leads Anne into the house, leaving him there to carry the bags. That's a first. He used to be her favourite, but that role is probably going to belong to the baby now.

"I'll take that."

Aramis looks at his side and sees the weathered face of his father, who has an amused smile on his lips. If there's someone who knows his mother better than anyone in the world, that's his father. The man has surely watched her over the last few days, planning everything and being excited to have guests.

"Thank you," Aramis babbles, but his father doesn't reply. "I, uh, could I talk to you?" Words aren't coming easy for Aramis, but they never have when it comes to these situations and Henry.

"I know about the baby," Henry replies nonchalantly. "What else do we need to discuss?"

"Aren't you mad? Disappointed? Upset?"

Henry turns to look at his son. "You're not a child anymore, Aramis. And I did everything I could to raise a man who would and could take care of his family. Also, I know I'm old-fashioned and we don't agree in many views of the world, but I'm also aware of the way the world changes." He heaves a deep sigh. "Yes, I'd like you to be married and then have children, but situations are rarely perfect."

"I love her. And my child. Does it get any more perfect than that?" Aramis asks him and his father smiles.

"No. It truly doesn't."

Aramis can easily tell the few times he has had this type of talks with his father, but this is probably the first in which they don't end up fighting, making everything worse.

"You taught me well. I promise to try my best too, and hopefully you'll help me with him. Perhaps my son will get along with you better than I did. Isn't that what they say about grandparents and grandchildren?"

Henry smiles in that way Aramis once wished to imitate — one side of his mouth curved up, with some sadness and innocence not proper for a man who has seen so much of the world, but perfect for one who has led a life devoted to his family.

"I can't wait to meet him." Henry turns around again to go back to the living room, where they can hear his mother and sisters smothering Anne with questions.

"Alexander," Aramis says. "Anne and I have agreed to call him Alexander, like your father."

Henry only nods, without looking at him. His father has never been good at showing his emotions, and Aramis has always thought that's because the man is too sensitive, and dislikes for people to know that. Besides, they had a hard time when his grandfather died. Aramis was only ten, but he does remember having seen his father grieving, not talking — not even to Sofia — and wandering around the house, as if his life compass had been broken.

"We should probably rescue Anne, huh?" Aramis tries to lighten the mood with a joke, and his father is thankful for it. "Before they start planning the birth and all."

Henry snorts a laugh. "We should."

o~o~o

Anne made perfectly clear the fact that she loves his sisters, but she's feeling a bit overwhelmed with the incessant questions and the warnings. She was truly scared of not knowing enough and not being ready for the baby. He spent more than half an hour the previous night trying to calm her down, and as soon as he woke up he told his mother to please keep his sisters from sharing more _gory details_ about motherhood with them

When he tells Anne they will visit his father at work, so she gets to know the pub, she's glad and excited.

"I had never been behind the bar," she says, being careful not to knock something off with her belly. "Well, I haven't been to too many pubs either." She looks at Henry and smiles. "I like to spend my time reading with a glass of wine, though as you might've imagined, I haven't done that for a long time either."

Aramis smiles at the way his father's eyes widen in slight terror. Henry is not exactly a social butterfly like his son — he's more about actions than words.

"Um, where's the restroom?" Anne asks and after being told, she disappears for a few minutes to relieve herself. It's funny to watch her walk around, manoeuvring her extended stomach with skill.

"She's nervous," Aramis tells his father. "For some reason she feels inadequate and fears you won't like her because of where she comes from and how she was raised. It's stupid, but I wouldn't dare to tell her so."

Henry looks away, in the direction of the restrooms before he looks at his son. He's smiling. "She's very much like your mother, you know?"

Aramis stares at his hand over the wooden bar, toying with a coaster.

He always had that feeling. It isn't only that Anne comes from Spain like his mother, but the warmth about her — the way she truly cares for people. Now that he has had the chance to watch her day after day, becoming a mother, it has been more obvious. Of course, there are differences between them. There aren't two people in the world who are the same, but the foundations are so similar. They are caring, sweet and protective of their loved ones. His mother is louder, and Anne more commanding, but he can see it like his father does.

"I know."

Anne returns soon and stands behind the bar again, asking about the stories Sofia told her the day before, and details of the business. Henry gets visibly tired — it takes a large effort for him to be this talkative, but he likes Anne and so he tries to soothe her curiosity.

"Oh!" Anne exclaims with a smile on her face and quickly reaches for Henry's hand. Aramis laughs at the horror on his father's face when Anne places the hand over her belly. "He's kicking. Can you feel it?"

"I, well, yes."

"I hope it's because he's happy to be around you and not because of the pepper I eat earlier." Anne blushes, which makes Henry laugh.

"I hope so too."

It's strange to see his father being this open and relaxed, but perhaps it's because Anne has that same quality Sofia has. Aramis wondered once, when he was a moody teenager, what his mother had seen in his father. Henry was a hard man, even if compassionate and good. It was difficult to talk to him, but Sofia seemed to read him like an open book. They don't need words.

o~o~o

Julia, his older sister, gives Anne the first gift for the baby. It's a pack with sleepsuits in white and grey. They are tiny and when Anne takes them in her small hands, somehow she doesn't look so small. They both suddenly understand how the life they both created will arrive to this world in a tiny and fragile body, and their job will be to make sure he grows to become strong and capable, so he can live his own life when the time comes.

"We won't be able to visit immediately when the baby comes, because the girls will be in school, so we wanted to help a little," Julia says.

Aramis looks at her, at the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and remembers when she still was living at home and he behaved like the annoying little brother to his teenage sister. Julia, and Carolina, his other sister, wasted no time to embarrass him in front of his friends. They kissed him and hugged him, and when even younger used him as a doll, playing with his hair and dressing him up. He hated it, but they taught him many things about life and women.

Carolina wraps her arms around his neck and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, making everyone laugh. She has always been the funny one. "Our baby's baby!" Aramis hugs her back, remembering when Julia had left for university. They became closer, and she turned out to be his confidante the first time he liked a girl. The worst time in their relationship was when he accidentally told their parents about the tattoo she had gotten, but fortunately they had recovered from it. "I'll visit, so I can meet my beautiful nephew."

"Have you checked if the university offers daycare for students?" Julia asks as she sets the table, ready for lunch before they all have to travel back home.

Aramis is about to open his mouth, telling her that they will have to apply for nursery, but there are good chances for the child being accepted. Anne interrupts him, though.

"I'll defer for a semester at least, so we have time."

Well, he wasn't aware of that decision. "What?"

Anne looks at him, as if he should've known it. The rest of the people in the room seem uncomfortable and decide to busy themselves doing something else.

"I'll give birth little after the beginning of the school year. I need time. We need time, and I won't leave him while he's so little." Anne folds her hands on her lap and looks at them. She's not nervous, she's scared he might feel left out of her decision — he knows the face and the gestures. Aramis simply knows Anne doesn't want a fight, but she won't budge either. "It's a sacrifice I'm perfectly willing to make and a decision I was aware of very early on."

"But we could work it out, we—"

"We are studying, and you're working too. It's not as terrible as it sounds, but I'll need to speak to my brother to settle things before I go through with it."

He sort of hates when she's right — which happens probably eighty percent of the time, and the other twenty he's too busy being hot-blooded and adventurous to listen to her.

It wasn't his intention to flip her life upside down. A baby is a big responsibility — and an actually marvellous experience, if he says so — but Aramis constantly wonders if at some point she will blame him for putting her life on hold. He didn't ask for it, but he's not the one carrying the child — he put it there, but after that fathers seem to only have the ability of feeling helpless for months on end.

Anne stands up and outstretches her hand for him to take it. She leads them to his old bedroom, the one they are sharing since his parents saw no point in keeping them apart when the worst (best) that could've happened had already done.

"We won't be able to support ourselves with your part-time job," Anne whispers and her cheeks tint in a deep shade of red. She's unable to look at him in the eye.

This is no new information for him. Aramis is aware of that. He has a scholarship, and his father sends him a modest amount of money each month that used to be enough. Now there are new expenses, and even if Anne adamantly forced him and Porthos to accept her share of the rent, they don't have much to save for the baby. Or at least, that's what he thinks.

"If I defer, I'll lose my scholarship," Aramis tells her, but she's already shaking her head.

"I couldn't ask that! I'm not." Anne reaches to touch his chest, dragging her finger from the base of his throat to the center. She flattens her palm over his heart. "But I need to confess that I'm afraid. Not of money, or the lack of it. I have it, and that's more than enough to live our lives as we have so far for... _years_." He frowns at this new piece of information. "My mother owned a few boutiques in Spain, France and the UK. She left them for me in her will, and they provide me monthly income."

"Then why are you so scared of your brother and losing his support? I thought he was the one paying for school and everything else you needed."

"He is. Well, I get part of the profits, but I haven't dared to take my place as owner. Philip has been the one in charge for years. I agreed to it, but it might be time to finally play the part." She smiles sadly, tilting her head to the side. "I wanted to get a degree first, and experience university life, but maybe I don't need it."

"Anne—"

"Don't do that. Stop feeling pity for me, or feeling guilty yourself. Each of us have the life we were built to live. And I love it now. I don't want it to change, not even if I have all the money in the world. That scared me. I don't want to lose what we have."

Aramis wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back as he feels her burying her face in his chest. He doesn't believe she was hiding the money from him — he has learned Anne appreciates the little things in life, and she's not one to refuse helping her friends. He knows she has covered Porthos' share of the rent twice now, and she has not once asked for the money, but Porthos, being a man of his word, has always returned it.

"If you think you'll hurt my masculinity by earning more than I do... well, fear not."

Anne snorts a watery laugh as she lifts her head to look at him and his knavish smile.

"I'm not that easy to scare away."

"I know." She leans in her tiptoes and presses her lips against his. Her belly is pressed against him and he feels the baby kick.

Love has never scared him. Commitment has always been the problem, but with Anne he doesn't feel trapped. He feels whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? I believe next chapter will be told from Anne's POV, so we see more of her views about the boys and her feelings during pregnancy. Maybe we'll see Philip too.


	9. Common Ground

It itches. No one ever warned her about it, but as the skin of her belly stretches while the baby grows inside her, it starts to itch and therefore she needs to scratch it.

"Stop it," Aramis mumbles, shooing her hand away from the underside of her stomach — or as far as she can reach.

Anne pouts. He was supposed to be sleeping, but he has some kind of sixth sense regarding her and the baby, particularly when she's doing something she's not supposed to like scratching her belly, eating too much candy or lifting a box — though, he is being overprotective about that one.

"It itches!" she hisses. Obviously he ignores the woes of a pregnant woman, and even if last night sounded like a great idea to have him spooning with her, now she feels sweaty and disgusting — on top of an itchy belly. Not that he could ever be disgusting — must be her hormones or something.

Aramis sighs and moves away from her. Looking over her shoulder, she watches him reach for the tube of aloe vera gel on the night table. Next thing he does is push the sheets back, and her nightgown up. She'd blush but there's no point. Anne knows what is coming. Aramis squirts a generous dollop of gel on his hand and then starts rubbing it on her skin.

She sighs contently at the cool sensation.

He smiles in that way only he does — a bit sexy and goofy, all wrapped up in careless charm. And it's difficult to deny how much she loves waking up to him. No, it's not about how ridiculously handsome he is, but he also cares for her. Each time he leaves the bed before her he kisses her shoulder if he thinks she's asleep, and her forehead if he wakes her up. Aramis brings her breakfast to bed and he actually buys flowers whenever he feels like it — and lately chocolates because she craves them.

Anne acknowledges Aramis is not perfect — he leaves his dirty clothes on the floor and forgets to change the towel after showering. More than once he has accused her of hiding his things, but she has only organized the room. She cried once because Aramis said she got her kicks out of seeing him freak out whenever he lost something — again, her hormones are terrible on her, but he apologized again and again.

"Better?" He asks once the gel is absorbed by her skin and his hands.

"Much."

He leans forward and presses a tender kiss to her swollen belly, before climbing out of bed. "Do you want toasts with jam? I bought an apricot one yesterday. Milk? Apple juice?" He prattles as he slides on a pair of sweatpants — Porthos gave them the heads-up last night that Mara was spending the night, so they want to avoid potentially awkward situations.

Anne giggles. "I'm not going to complain. It's hard not to get used to being spoiled."

"Well, I hope for the same one day. Maybe if I'm sick or it's my birthday."

"I won't. Nope," Anne replies cheekily. Her devious smile soon gives room to a fit of laughter when Aramis lunges at her with a playful smile on his face. Pinning her to the bed, he pecks her lips, her cheeks, nose and neck, until she's breathless out of so much laughter. She's never felt freer than with him. It's as if she can finally let herself be, without restraint and fears. "I love you," Anne mutters against his lips.

The way Aramis drags a finger along the angles and curves of her face, as if to memorize her, makes her heart speed up.

"There's not a word to define how I feel about you. But love comes close enough."

Anne cradles his face in her hands and kisses the tip of his nose, making him smile. "You had to outdo me, hadn't you?"

He laughs and rolls out of bed. "Breakfast in bed is enough proof."

o~o~o

Anne is obsessively cleaning everything she can — and the boys allow her to, since each time she tried to organize the bathroom, Porthos reprimanded her and Aramis did the same when he found her in the kitchen.

"Could you please sit and... read or maybe do something else that doesn't require you to shake that belly so much?" Aramis asks in a teasing tone, but she's not in the mood for his clever lines.

"I'm not _shaking_ my belly."

He laughs. "This place is in better shape than when we moved in. I don't understand why-"

"My brother will visit. I don't need to give him reasons to disapprove even more of my lifestyle. I want to make amends."

Imagine her surprise when she called her brother and his assistant told her he would be visit England in a week. Apparently Elisabeth — Philip's wife and coincidentally Louis' sister — wanted to visit her little brother for old time sakes, and since she doesn't get along with her mother, she wanted for her children to see their uncle. Anne is not quite sure what Elisabeth's reaction will be when she sees her, but she hopes for the best.

"Fine. I'll keep Porthos from throwing around dirty napkins and ask him to hide his homemade erotic collection."

"I heard that!" Porthos bellows from the hall.

"Oh, don't think I don't know you are exchanging racy pictures with Mara."

"Aramis!" Anne chides.

"He does that. A true romantic fellow," Aramis quips, but soon feels a ball of paper on the side of his head, making Anne giggle.

"Some get the ability to come up with pretty little words, and others, like myself, are born good-looking. Not my fault," Porthos jokes as he comes into view. "I'll pick it up," he tells Anne, who just shoots him a grateful smile. He's always helpful and sweet — it's funny how under all that bravado hides a sweet and caring man.

"I resent that," Aramis replies. His girlfriend and best friend look at him. "If that's the case, what did Athos and d'Artagnan get in exchange?"

Porthos laughs.

These two handsome and smart men behave like children more often than not, which amuses Anne to no end.

Porthos moves around the living room, picking up his books and things — he was studying until late last night, and so she forgives his mild mess.

"Do you still need help with that Marketing and Communications paper?" Anne asks while trying to stand up, finally giving up and just waving her hands in Aramis' direction. He chuckles and just tugs her up.

Porthos nods. "I could use some help, if you are available."

"She is. This nerdy girl has already finished with classes." Aramis pecks her temple, buries his nose in her hair and takes a deep breath until he sighs contently. Anne loves to feel him calm thanks to her, to feel his hand caressing her belly as if he could touch their son and be so sweet. So it's startling when he suddenly pulls back and stares hard at her. "Hey, why aren't you offering me help with my work?"

She smiles. "You need help coming up with words? You could probably sell sand in a desert!"

Porthos' laugh is deep and rich and Aramis doesn't look upset. In fact, he has a half smile on his face before he kisses her cheek.

"Have fun with books. Meanwhile, I'll see if I can finish up assembling the furniture in the baby's room." Aramis places his hands on her hips and gives her a playful shake.

Anne only feels slightly embarrassed of having surprised him with the enormous boxes with the furniture, but she really wanted them and she had more than enough money to splurge on them. She has tried not to buy much more, because the girls are planning on throwing her a baby shower in a couple of days, so only then she will know what she'll truly need — it is not her idea to flood the apartment with baby stuff.

"Shall we start?"

Porthos looks at her. Smiling, he nods.

"I've never seen him this relaxed and happy, you know?" he says it offhandedly, while searching for a pen, but then he looks at her. Anne can't contain her grin.

"I had never felt like this either." She takes the pen and gives a look at Porthos' backpack. "Are those aniseed imperials?"

Porthos laughs and gets the handful of candy on the table.

o~o~o

There's no way she could hide her swollen, seven-months-pregnant belly, but her purple lace dress does a terrific job at not making her look like a blob. She likes it. And she also likes that it doesn't look horrible with her silver flats. She's just finishing her looks by twisting her hair in a bun when Aramis shows up in dark jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. By the way, the effort of doing her own hair has her sweating like a pig, but at least she hasn't finished her makeup yet.

"You look incredible."

There's a bead of sweat running down her nose, so she glares at him.

Aramis looks perplexed, and then nervous. "What did I do?"

"I-" she sighs and places the last pin on her hair. "Nothing. I'm just nervous and being a horrible person at the moment."

Philip and Elisabeth are supposed to arrive in just a half-hour. There's nothing to hide or be embarrassed about, but after the last interactions with her brother, she doesn't think everything will go perfectly smooth as she wishes they could go. Besides, Aramis might be charming and adorable, but her brother will not appreciate his lack of status and money.

"Porthos said he'll stay with Mara for the night," Aramis tells her as he puts his things away and folds his clothes. He's nervous too — he rarely keeps the room this tidy.

"It wasn't necessary. This is his home too, and the last thing I want is to make him feel like it's not." She bites her lip.

Aramis looks at her through the mirror. "I don't think he was complaining. Mara wasn't either. They had a date planned, so we only gave them an excuse. They are really getting serious, and that's a first for Porthos in a very long time. After Alice, he was devastated."

"He has a kind soul. He deserves to be happy."

Aramis stands next to her, smiling. "May I kiss you?" She giggles. He's only asking to avoid being yelled at in case he ruins her makeup — her hormones are all over the place, and her back pain is not helping her mood swings either.

"Yes. I actually need it."

"You demand it?"

Anne tilts her head up, chin high. "I do."

"I can do nothing but comply, Your Grace."

She laughs. It's hard not to be in a good mood with a man as sweet and funny as Aramis — and she thinks he's the sole reason why this pregnancy hasn't driven her completely mad.

It's doesn't take long before the doorbell is ringing and Anne is running around — almost waddling to Aramis' chagrin, who expresses it by scowling at her. He's overprotective like that, which occasionally upsets her when he implies she cannot do things by herself — she hopes it's just because she's pregnant, because she likes her independence and freedom, and never will be a housewife or a stay-at-home mum.

"Hello," Anne greets with a cheerful disposition, hoping for the best but ready for the worst. "Please, come in."

Philip's back is rigid — Anne imagines he thought she would be living in a dump, because he doesn't know much about the life outside their condo in New York and the house in Madrid. He loves luxury hotels and having people at his beck and call. He's not horrible, but circumstances have forced him to live as a king — nothing moves without him knowing or wishing so.

Elisabeth gives her a little smile, though. Her eyes linger on Anne's swollen belly and she gets a little teary-eyed — Anne knows she and Philip had trouble to get pregnant and it must be a reminder of the long process to see her in that state. Anne doesn't know why some people have to struggle so much for children, and others happen to find them without even having thought about it.

"Anne," Elisabeth calls and wraps her in a light hug, kissing her cheek. "You look radiant."

Philip looks away and soon finds Aramis standing just as tense behind her.

"Thank you." Anne turns to her boyfriend and takes a deep breath. "This is Aramis." And she doesn't know what to add. She told Philip about him, but she's not sure Philip told Elisabeth the true story, and not the one seen through his eyes.

Elisabeth is cordial, and the perfect example of politeness. Instead, Philip only looks around the place probably trying to find flaws she had already tried to hide.

"This is where you live now." He's not asking, of course. "A far cry from our home."

"Philip, please," Elisabeth chides.

"What? Would you live here? How can this be apt for a woman like her, with her education and taste? Though, I doubt she will be completing her education now she's decided to give birth to a working-class progeny."

"Philip!" Elisabeth cries in outrage. "It is true Anne has chosen a different path, but she's still your sister." She looks apologetically at Anne. "And she's right here. It's rude of us to ignore her. She gracefully invited us—"

"She's trying to patch things up so I don't take away the money."

Anne feels her eyes burning — it's partially because of her hormonal state, but also because this is her brother, and no matter what, his words hurt.

"It's my money, really. So you can forget about me trying to steal yours, or whatever you think I'm trying to do." She tries to say it with an even voice, but it still feels strangled and full of emotion. "The reason I invited you here it's because I want my child to have his uncle and know his family. And I need my brother, the one who was trying to keep this family together, but now only knows how to push me away." She takes a deep breath, and feels Aramis warm hand on her back, supporting her as always. "If you don't want that, Philip. If you can't see me as your sister anymore, then I ask you to leave. I don't need or want to fight."

Philip looks at her, his narrow nose and sharp face tense.

"You don't want to manage your share of the inheritance, Anne."

"I do. Or at least I think I should, in case you stop talking to me."

"It's too much stress for you now that you're pregnant, and for the few months after, while the child is too young."

So he cares. At least that she can tell.

"You're still my sister," Philip says with some difficulty. He never expresses his emotions freely. "I worry. I care for you. You deserve greatness, which is why I'm so upset about this outcome."

"I can achieve greatness, just not how you planned it." She's on the verge of tears, and she knows Aramis is very close of asking Philip and Elisabeth to leave, so she places a hand on his forearm and begs with her eyes for him to understand. "Can you just be happy for me? This is the first time in a long while since I feel whole, and the only thing missing is my family. Could you forgive me for whatever sin I've committed in your eyes?"

"Anne—" Philips starts, but doesn't finish the sentence. He walks towards her and cradles her face in his hands. "You're my sister. Nothing, no one is good enough for you. It's not the pregnancy that bothered me. You chose him," he looks at Aramis. "You chose routine, and motherhood."

"I make choices everyday. It's not routine. And I like it. Could you try to understand?"

"I have nothing to forgive, but don't expect me to accept this so quickly. I promise I'll try, but that’s the best I can do."

"It's enough for me." Anne wraps her arms around him, which is funny with her belly between them and how stiff Philip gets whenever people is emotional around him. She looks up and sees the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Perhaps now Maria Anna will speak to me again. I miss my annoying and demanding sisters."

Anne snorts a laugh which makes the tears welled in her eyes to spill down her cheeks. As a gentleman, Philip hands her a handkerchief. Their father did the same whenever one of his children or wife cried.

Aramis is awkward when he interrupts the moment to announce that dinner should be ready in just a few minutes, but Elisabeth is graceful and tries not to appear appalled that they don’t have help to serve the food – she might try to be accepting, but like Anne, they were coddled while growing up.

It’s not perfect, mainly because they’ve never been extremely close or affectionate, but it’s a start. The best Anne can say it’s that her son will have a different life, because she knows Aramis will hug him and kiss him, play with him and be emotionally supportive – she’ll do her best as well. Alexander will have many people to care for him, and among them will be Philip, hopefully.

It’s only when they start eating that Anne remembers why she doesn’t talk often with Elisabeth.

“Ugh, have you met the girl Louis is seeing now?” She’s the worst gossip. “Not an ounce of decorum.” She frowns, but tries to smile as she lifts her head high. “It’s basically the one reason why I could ever oppose to your new relationship, dearie. That Milady is not good enough for him.”

Aramis almost chokes before he exchanges a look with Anne. That’s one couple who doesn’t seem fitting.

“I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” Anne replies diplomatically, but Philip snorts rudely.

“That would be a first.”

Anne doesn’t appreciate the way Aramis smirks and visibly tries to bite back a laugh, but Philip is smiling smugly and apparently their dislike for Louis is the one thing that will bring them together.

At least that’s a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think about the meeting? I know it was a little light, and Aramis didn't interact much with Philip (but I do believe they could bond over their mutual dislike of Louis)


End file.
